


Abnormality

by Inept_Fangirl



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Language, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutant Powers, My multifandom trash self is showing, Violence, iDK tho, possible sex in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inept_Fangirl/pseuds/Inept_Fangirl
Summary: They aren't welcomed. They're misunderstood, cast away from society's judgemental glances.They say that they're not human-- but what does it even mean to be human, anyway?Mutants AU





	1. Chapter 1

Time is a constant. Throughout your own reality, it continues to change-- it’s an unwavering force that can’t be stopped or permanently altered. 

That’s what they claimed. He went through numerous tests, in multiple white walled facilities. They were seized by anxiety whenever he blinked at them, or said something that was considered to be beyond ordinary. Though he couldn’t understand how such a complex, advanced species could somehow manage to conform to single, normalized concept of ordinary. His analysis made others surprisingly unsettled. 

Jihoon promised himself that as a child prodigy, he couldn’t set limits to himself based on other’s expectations. More than that, his theories of evolutionary ‘glitches’ or ‘genetic mishaps’ could only be proven to be correct in a way of memorable extravagance. 

He was ten years old, standing on a stage of polished oak wood and blinding lights. Jihoon considered himself rather introverted, and found that socializing was never really his specialty. However, there was little compared to the ripple of acknowledgement that filtered through crowds time and time again as they realized his gifted numerical and cognitive abilities. 

Jihoon was presenting not for the sake of mathematics, but for a way to explain the unexplainable-- his own theory of superhuman abilities, specifically his own. He hoped for news coverage, people like him realizing that they weren’t freaks. 

They were all human, after all. 

But, as Jihoon dropped a matted, stained tennis ball from a plat formed stage a thought occurred to him.  
What would happen if perhaps they weren’t ready for facing this kind of reality?

The tennis ball halted before hitting the ground, hovering mid air above people in wealthy, luxury clothing and perplexed expressions. To further prove his point, Jihoon rewinded the ball’s path back to his clammy palm.  
Jihoon gauged the audience’s reaction with baited breath.

There was a stifling silence, before indignant murmurs of ‘lighting tricks’ reached Jihoon’s ears. He sighed, and offered multiple angles, even accepting requests from the audience. 

It was eight minutes later when a woman hurriedly left with her newborn swaddled in her arms, steps uneven and rushed. Others flashed him strange looks. A school teacher was speaking frantically with an operator of some sort on her cell phone. 

Jihoon could feel his eyebrows furrow, and his legs begin to shake-- they hadn’t done that since the first time he spoke in front of an audience. 

A large number of men appeared and began conducting an evacuation of the building. People fled, adults nearly trampling over other’s children-- desperate for an escape.  
An escape away from him. 

Jihoon’s feet wouldn’t move as dread made bile rise in his throat. His heart lurched in his chest as he saw his mother and father being dragged away by someone in an all white uniform-- their limbs and faces covered, the uniform resembling what doctors in virus movies wear to prevent themselves from getting infected. They glanced back at him tearfully, their eyes unrecognizable. 

Jihoon swallowed. Five of the men charged at him on stage, and Jihoon couldn’t find the strength to attempt to flee or fight back. 

A cloth was placed against his face and Jihoon felt as though he were suffocating. His sense darkened, his vision blurred.  
Jihoon went limp in the arms of a stranger.  
Maybe he wasn’t so human after all.

 

Soonyoung sat, carving obscene imagery and vandalising his splintery desk. The public school for his local, run down city was small and unsurprisingly lacking in teachers and staff. With a future graduating class of only sixty kids, it was of no shock that education was hard to come by. Most students skipped, more focused on surviving than fantasizing about university. He smiled bitterly when he remembered that most kids became employed at eight years of age, typical child labor laws didn’t seem to apply to depraved,starving families. 

Soonyoung grinned as the flame dripping from his finger grew steadily at the memory that made him so disgruntled. He burned another ‘fuck this place’ for good measure, before carefully dodging dislodged tile and the weeds that grew through the crumpling floor. 

He turned down an abandoned corridor, flames licking at his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment and welcomed the warmth.

When he heard the distant yet unmistakable sound of voices lilting in the air, the fire was extinguished into nothing but putrid smoke. 

He greeted a few of his schoolmates cheerfully, uttering a half hearted cigarette joke before turning and exiting bashfully through a gaping hole in the side of the cracked brick.

The sun was setting, but the humid, sweat inducing temperature remained the same. The complaints from his peers and townspeople were relentless, they wished for at least a decade of never ending rain.  
Soonyoung disagreed-- the sweltering heat was a comfort.

His small hut was located on the town’s outskirts, a straw roof and twig ridden walls never protected against thieves very well. He had always fantasized about using his ability against people who wished he and his family harm. 

His mother had always told him about his older sister and younger sibling, though he hadn’t known them personally. They were half siblings from another marriage, and Soonyoung never had the pleasure of meeting them.

Soonyoung’s lovely mother had fallen for a poor man living with nothing in the country, and had abandoned all for him. Whispers followed her, people gossiping and claiming her to be a fool.  
Soonyoung believed that sacrificing for love was a beautiful concept-- the idea that his mother loved his father so incredibly much, that giving up her life and being disowned meant nothing in comparison to what she had gained. 

He almost admired her, even if she had left her other children behind-- she told Soonyoung that they deserved a life of wealth and comfort.  
Soonyoung sometimes found himself wondering what life would be like, should he and his siblings ever switch places.

Still, his mother wasn’t a fool for loving.  
No, she was a fool for loving his father. 

Soonyoung was four when his father had first smacked his mother. He had cried while being cradled in her arms. 

Soonyoung was seven when he covered his mouth to keep from screaming in the dead of night when his father kicked her in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. 

He was ten when his mother was no longer allowed to leave their hut, becoming completely reliant on her husband for providing basic necessities. She soon became attention depraved, doing anything to garner praise or affection.

Soonyoung was fourteen when he walked into his hut to witness his father holding a rusty butcher knife, his mother quivering and covering the gash on her cheek-- though the blood seeped through the gaps in her fingers.

Soonyoung was fourteen when his temper flared out of control, and he sat in the ashes of his town’s ruins and the corpses he’d charred.  
The fire had gone far beyond what he could comprehend, his own abilities only recently developed. 

It was only after lives had slipped through his hands and Soonyoung was a sobbing mess that the finally managed to evaporate the fire. He was shaking, his chest heaving. 

The fire must have been seen from a distance. It had been explosive and sudden, just like it’s ending.

Perhaps that was why those in the distance didn’t send regular firefighters, policemen, or even an investigator. 

Men that looked like puffy marshmallows stuck a dart in his neck, and Soonyoung felt the strength drain out of him. He vaguely realized that he was going into some sort of sleep, and found himself hoping that he’d never wake up again.

 

Seungkwan panted as he was harshly shoved against concrete, eyes flitting between two towering figures overhead. They belitted him while they spat on the ground, their laughter was the only thing he could focus on. 

He wondered what it would be like if they could feel the same pain that was barely keeping him conscious. His face bloodied and bruised, wrists rubbed raw from being bound against a metal pole only a few minutes prior. 

Seungkwan focused. 

One of them fell to the ground, doubled over and dabbing at their face. He stared in astonishment at seeing a face that mirrored his. 

The boys tripped over one another in a panicked daze as the sprinted clumsily down the block. Seungkwan smiled with a sense of victory as he glared at their retreating forms.  
He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the pain to vanish-- or at least to diminish slightly.

His eyes shot open in shock when he realized that nothing could be felt. Seungkwan bent over a puddle that had formed in crater along the bumpy pavement, eyes wide.

His skin was clear, and lacking in the abundance of injuries that he had received. 

In hindsight, healing the other victims of bullying without batting an eye may have not been the best idea. Seungkwan had restraints on his wrists and a gag over his mouth-- the last thing he remembered seeing was his mother shoving through the crowd, hand outstretched for her son. 

 

Wonwoo had always been a troubled child. He stalked the streets and pickpocketed, carefully slipping by unseen-- having wallets and jewelry gravitate towards him. For a kid, Wonwoo knew how to get around. He sold expensive items on the alleyway street markets, that were fairly popular in the slum area. 

Wonwoo grew arrogant. A twelve year old boy with a secret, a monopoly on credit card information and other valuables.  
One day he was careless, shedding his invisibility without checking for security cameras first. 

His cold cell practically burned into his skin.

 

Jeonghan had always been drawn to nature. Flowing waterfalls, colored daffodils and the scent of the Earth after a fresh rain. His family garden was where he enjoyed being most-- sweet scents tickling his nose and tangling his thoughts. 

Jeonghan had discovered his talent when he was around six years of age. Flowers danced around each other and grew whenever he willed them so, stretching until their soft, dainty petals graced the ceiling. 

He had been giggling to himself, unaware of his neighbor lurking by the window-- a witness to his remarkable abilities.  
They grew restless. Mobile cameras with good quality hadn’t been invented yet, so the neighbor called out to their husband who worked at the city police station. 

Things escalated from there. His family were held outside with wide eyes and trembling hands. Jeonghan had felt a sharp pain in his neck, and let out a whine.  
He reached behind him and tugged a needle out of his skin. 

Confused, Jeonghan turned to face a veiled stranger holding a large club.

Jeonghan honestly can’t recall much after that. 

 

Seokmin had been a star athlete-- his natural affinity for speed and agility only aided his success. He had never truly thought about being discovered-- it wasn’t possible. As long as he stayed focus, Seokmin would never manage to overdo it and out himself. 

Seokmin was a bit inattentive at times, however. He was staring around the foggy streets while waiting for a late night bus, the cold causing him to shake in his boots. He felt a strange movement, as though something had been jerked from his pocket. 

Seokmin angled his head to the left to see his wallet scattering around the corner. He watched, dazed, before taking following it around the edge. The wind wasn’t blowing-- and even if it was, that wouldn’t explain his wallet’s sudden animated tendencies. 

He rounded the building’s edge just in time to crash into a dumpster-- much to the amusement of an unseen face, who snickered. Seokmin dusted himself off, and felt his jaw unhinge when he saw that no one could be seen around him. 

Grumbling, Seokmin decided that he would simply tell his parents that someone had mugged him on the street-- even if the incident unsettled him greatly. They were bankers, money was plentiful-- what did it matter if some went to waste?

Seokmin stood at the bus stop yet again, the moon illuminating the clouds overhead. 

He noticed strange figures in white looming, slowly enclosing on something that he couldn’t see. 

Large crashes and bangs could be heard a block or so away, sending chills up Seokmin’s spine. 

One of the figures stood in the street, something metallic glittering in their hands. 

A bus was hurdled towards them, and Seokmin gulped in pure terror. It was rolling on it’s sides, glass covering the streets. Seokmin lurched forward, grabbing the person’s arm and tugging them to safety in a few consecutive seconds.  
Someone screamed at him. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know what they do?” 

Seokmin disregarded the voice and addressed the stranger, who seemed to be a doctor of some sort. “Are you alright?”  
He was panting from the adrenaline running through his veins. 

A streetlamp casted ugly yellow light onto the both of them. Seokmin turned and saw a boy throwing cars into buildings left and right. 

Something clicked. That boy-- they had abilities. 

But that boy had also tried to kill someone. 

With his eyes fixated on the rampage before him, Seokmin didn’t register the needle that stabbed into his neck. 

 

Mingyu suspected that he was feared by the staff at the facility. With a few moments of petty eye contact, they shared one body. With just a smirk and a bit of a friendly gesture, they couldn’t move. 

The normal iron restraints didn’t work on him. Metal bended to his will, his abilities perfect for escaping time and time again. 

Mingyu’s mother had given birth to him at the facility-- or so he’d been told. White walls and the after effects of anesthesia were all he had ever known. 

He was being transported for a reason that was unknown to him. The driver was careless, and the blindfold that was supposed to restrict his vision sat loosely on his face.  
All it took was a murmur and a glance, and suddenly they were his.

Things quickly escalated from there.  
Mingyu recalled manipulating the metal cars longed alongside the streets and sending them flying, crashing towards his enemy. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a boy being dragged into a van, before the facilitators drove away. 

Mingyu felt a pang of pity resound through his chest, before shaking it away. This was survival, there wasn’t time to save anyone other than himself. 

He grunted with effort as he heaved a bus towards his walking nightmare strutting in the middle of the street-- a needle in their hand visible from where he stood.

A blur was all he could see. Suddenly a kid was waving his hand in front of it’s face, seemingly concerned. 

Mingyu fell to the ground from exhaustion. If only the bastards hadn’t tested on him the day before, his gift would’ve been stronger. Not only that, but there seemed to be a strangely high amount of abnormals in this area.  
Before his grip on reality slipped away completely, Mingyu remembered yelling.  
“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know what they do?”

The outside world couldn’t be so oblivious. People like him-- surely they were aware.  
Mingyu glared holes into the stranger’s backside, willing him to run before darkness enveloped him. 

 

Junhui was a quiet child. The neverending voices in his head always seemed to fill the silence. 

He assumed that everyone could hear the voices of their deceased loved ones-- or at least perceive the images and senses that they sent through. His father always spoke in a soft voice about how his brother was still with them, still present in their everyday life. 

Junhui had nodded, because he could still see his brother sitting at the piano and smiling.

Junhui began seeing many counselors after parents complained with the principle that he ‘knew things that he shouldn’t’ and ‘had a strange fascination with the dead’.  
He couldn’t help but laugh as he thought about it, because they truly weren’t wrong. 

Junhui was precise with his readings, but only because spirits gave him the information that he needed to know.  
He only wanted to provide closure. 

Now the doors were closed on him, as he sat while staring blankly at a greying wall. 

 

Minghao thrived in darkness. It was cool and comforting, in ways that natural or artificial light alike could never be. He blocked out sunlight, because he had an affinity for seeing better when the moon was highest in the sky.  
Minghao enjoyed being outside, but only when no one else was present to bother him. He became a shadow, going unseen and remaining undetected by human eyes. 

Minghao didn’t consider himself to be human-- humans weren’t made of the cobalt sky littered with stars, or the shade that followed them when they walked. 

Minghao wasn’t sure what he was, honestly. That was alright with him.  
He just wanted to live peacefully. 

But these people that he had been avoiding-- they had crowded his city, searching for him. He had slipped up, a girl seeing him shift from person to shadow. 

And then other reports came, and it became rumored that a ghost was lingering over the town-- but Minghao was very much still alive and breathing, the blood pumping in his ears told him so.

He noted that they had managed to find him, even in the crowded forests, and when he crouched under shaded trees. They were tracking his body warmth. 

There was no place left to run. 

 

Hansol despised the heat. It made him sweat and itch, his clothes clung to him uncomfortably. His gift made it bearable, though. Performing tricks for neighborhood kids and showing off at magic shows-- it was fine, really. Showering his sister in snowflakes and watching frost nip at her ears always made him smile. 

His overly religious grandmother didn’t seem to appreciate his tricks as much. She claimed his powers to be a gift from Satan, and called him a heretic. 

And maybe she said the wrong thing to the wrong person, or maybe his grandmother called these people herself. All Hansol knew was that he was being stuffed into a metal van with his hands bound, his sister being held back by mysterious people in hooded lab coats. 

 

Seungcheol enjoyed hitting things and watching them tumble to the ground probably a little too much. More than that, he enjoyed his underground boxing club.  
He was a natural born fighter and an undefeated champion-- he could only smirk when he saw his opponent fall to the floor. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed hurting others. Seungcheol was equipped with skills that begged to be use in fights-- who was he to deny what he had been born with?

Seungcheol probably should’ve expected how quickly words move, especially when the topic was revolving around the part of town people tell tourists to stay away from. He hadn’t been anticipating an arm tugging him backwards by the collar of his shirt, though. A man with foul teeth and a muscular build challenged him to a brawl without any rules or safety precautions. 

Seungcheol snorted and kicked him to the wall almost effortlessly, but then winced when he heard something crack. 

In the days that followed, Seungcheol could feel eyes following his frame wherever he went. They lurked in the shadows, and he waited.  
He wasn’t unnerved-- not at all.

Whoever they were, they must have known about his fighting capabilities. 

A dart shot through the air and into his neck. 

That was the first time Seungcheol has ever lost a battle. 

 

To say that Chan was a storm chaser would be inaccurate-- he never chased them, he created them instead.

Strikes of lightning and pouring rain over the sound of booking thunder helped him sleep at night. It was satisfying to create a raging downpour from the swirl of his finger, to bask and jump in puddles.

It was rumored that he was mentally gone somehow, which wasn’t true. Chan just loved the freedom that came with creation. 

He wanted to test his limits. 

A storm had remained static, positioned over his town for the past week, relentless winds and heavy droplets.  
He could feel the exhaustion growing, his eyelids becoming heavier as the days went by. 

Chan visited the storm’s center every day to keep it from diminishing, it somehow managed to refresh his energy, and although it was brief-- it was relieving.  
It was relieving until he saw that someone had managed to get there before him. He felt a strange sense of anxiety settle on his chest, and his breathing felt constricted. 

He turned to leave, hoping to go unnoticed. Something sharp whizzed by his face and nicked his ear, and Chan swallowed. 

He was weak from testing his limits. Still, more darts were being aimed at him. He dodged clumsily, as though his joints were disconnected. 

Chan narrowed his eyes. He may be able to summon a strike of lightning, if he focused enough.

The timing had to be right. 

A loud, deafening crash echoed throughout the plain as electricity struck the ground.  
Chan succeeded in knocking the stranger off their feet despite missing his target-- usually, the impact alone would’ve left them shaking, clinging to consciousness. 

Chan was breathless and trembling-- he had met his limits. 

The storm cleared as Chan picked up on of the fallen darts and jammed it into his wrist-- preferring to go by his own terms.

What a sorry mistake that was. 

 

Jisoo cherished his dreams the most.  
As an empath, he could sense other’s emotions. As a clairvoyant, the future sometimes revealed itself in ways that were somewhat unexpected. Divination was a practice that kept him thoroughly entertained as well, the ideas of thoughts, feelings and timelines making up Jisoo’s existence-- his world.

When he slept, he travelled. He let his soul wander and absorb the knowledge that he was incapable of gathering while awake in the real world. 

He could see their faces, their thoughts-- the people he hadn’t met yet. His feelings were shared with them, their struggles and conflicts one in the same.  
One in particular stood out to him through his haze. Fluttery feelings and a beating heart-- Jisoo was positive that he could recognize him anywhere, now. Other faces blurred and merged-- his never did. 

Jisoo turned himself in the next day, proving his abilities and then being shoved roughly into a truck with his limbs bound. 

Whoever these people were, it was fate to meet them. They would need him eventually, right? There was no purpose in delaying the inevitable-- he would be found eventually. 

As he sat with his mouth gagged, despite his gifts-- Jisoo couldn’t help but wonder otherwise. 

 

A story of thirteen boys discovering what it means to be human, despite their apparent abnormalities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu is inept, Jeonghan is angry, and Yoongi is a sadist. Oh, and a bunch of other stuff happens too.
> 
> **Mild Gore/Blood warning**

Scars littered his body-- the pain was numbing and constant. They were behind him once more, drawing out samples in the hope of a breakthrough. He wasn’t positive on what their ultimate goal was, other than possibly figuring out ways to replicate his genetic makeup. 

A man in sterling garments and gel slicked hair entered his white walled room, padded and monitored-- as though he had committed some sort of unforgivable crime.   
The man wore a sneer on his face, and Jihoon silently wondered what would happen if he punched him, and fought the primal urge to do so. 

He bent down on one knee, guards flaking his sides. Jihoon wasn’t bold enough to attempt and escape, it was futile. The scientists stood near the door aloofly, watching-- though Jihoon couldn’t see their masked gazes. 

His eyes were cold and shrouded in an emotion that he couldn’t name. Jihoon felt a spark of indignation towards the fact that he felt it necessary to match his height, as though Jihoon were a child. 

“You’ve been here for awhile, Lee Jihoon. Must have been hard.” The man glanced around the room, refusing to meet his eyes.   
Jihoon realized that he was unnerved. Which was laughable, considering that he probably wasn’t nearly as dangerous compared to other prisoners in this hellhole. 

Jihoon didn’t dignify his statement with a reply. Although he had to admit how refreshing it was to see another human that wasn’t covering their face or performing painful operations on him. 

Heavy silence filled the room. Jihoon wasn’t socially inept, he was perfectly aware that the man wanted some form of acknowledgement. He sighed, and glared at the man reproachfully.   
“Yeah? It’s been a little more than hard, actually.” Jihoon practically spat his words-- the man’s amber eyes widened at the venom that coated his tone. 

He was irritated now. His eyes narrowed, and he dusted himself off as he stood. “You’re just as sharp tongued as I’ve heard,” he murmured. 

His smoothed his suit and ran a finger through greased locks. “I have a deal for you.” His eyes studied Jihoon, as though he was searching for a reaction. 

Jihoon blinked at him, arms crossed. He had purple bags under his eyes, scars on his stomach weren’t quite yet healed-- but he’d be lying to say that he wasn’t the least bit perplexed. Judging by his body language alone, the man wasn’t being deceitful.

Jihoon straightened his spine slightly, not wanting to appear weakened or small despite his stature. “And?” 

The man grinned. He held out a packet of thick, wrinkled papers with slightly smeared printing. 

“All the experiments, the pain-- you wouldn’t have to endure it anymore,” The man spoke as though he were coaxing a child. 

Jihoon flipped through the pages suspiciously. Surgeries, agony and boredom were all he had known for over ten years. The thought of living another life, free no less-- was nearly impossible to imagine. 

He had lost his faith in not only the world itself, but the humans that poisoned it ungratefully. Jihoon had learned his lesson many years ago-- he wasn’t a human. He was lesser, and would be treated as such.   
He was feared, and would be treated as such. 

He was worthless, and would be treated as such. 

Deals, happiness-- innocent things never came without a price. 

Jihoon stared at the man emptily. “What do you want from me?” He croaked. 

“I want to you to become a government weapon,”

Jihoon wasn’t following. The concept was easy enough to understand-- it was the ethical part that confused him. Why now? 

He wondered what that would mean, exactly. His throat dried and his hands felt shaky. 

“What would that entail, exactly?” Jihoon’s voice echoed around the room, unfamiliar to his ears and scratchy from lack of use. 

He simply gestured to the papers. “What, can’t you read?” 

“I can read perfectly fine. But I’m assuming that you have some sort of authority, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. If this entire shithole exists because you want guinea pigs to your bidding, then fuck off. I’m not interested.” Jihoon retorted heatedly. 

One of the guards stepped forward, most likely to rough him up-- Jihoon prepared himself for it. The man held his hand out and stopped him.   
His eyes were ablaze, but he seemed to be attempting to remain collected. “My motives aren’t of your concern,” He replied hastily. 

“You can can stay here and rot or join me. Monsters like you will never have another option.” The man snarled and began turning away. 

Jihoon could see his life playing before his eyes, again. He had assumed that he would die here-- abandoned, alone, forgotten. To think of another reality-- another life, away from here.

His eyes stung, and he felt a sudden pang deep in his chest. 

“Wait.” 

The man grinned, eyes glinting.

 

His wrist was sore, and Jihoon felt utterly shaken. There was a device now permanently embedded in his skin to track him-- and he was advised not to even attempt to remove it.

His own appearance was absolutely astonishing, at least to him. He had been permitted to properly groom himself and treat his wounds carefully-- a luxury he simply wasn’t used to.

There were twelve other participants, sorted into three groups based on skills and reported personality. Jihoon was informed that he wouldn’t only be meeting his team today, but that there was a complex built (and monitored, undoubtedly) for them to be kept in-- he would encounter the others again shortly after their first training session. 

The new building was remote, and highly resembled the other facility-- but there were no chill inducing scientists lingering around any corridors. 

Jihoon swallowed his worries. This would be his first interaction with others who were like him, and he couldn’t help but recall his dreams as a child of befriending others with such abilities.

The door was heavy. It was smooth and coated in what seemed to be iron. Jihoon could feel the surveillance cameras burning into his skull. 

Jihoon evened out his breathing, and closed his eyes briefly. Thoughts flickered to his parents.

He pushed the door open slowly, to see four other men of various appearances staring at him. 

The one to the far left had an appearance that resembled that of a feline, with slitted eyes and a gentle demeanor. He seemed to radiate a strange understanding, almost as though he knew something that others didn’t. Jihoon couldn’t place why that disturbed him so. 

The one next to him had a rounded face. He was smiling and laughing out of nerves, and stood jittery on his feet. Jihoon gathered that he was incredibly anxious, and slightly distrusting of the others. Jihoon noted that it was unlike the man before, whose posture was relaxed and unbothered. 

Next to him was someone who seemed to be playing with the lights of a lamp placed on a wooden table, which sat in the corner. With the move of his hand, the light dimmed before bursting brightly. He nodded at Jihoon and offered a smile. 

Finally, a man was leaning against the wall, seemingly unimpressed. He glanced towards Jihoon, and then towards the floor. Jihoon wondered what his issue was, but thought better of voicing those thoughts aloud. 

He spoke up. “That means that we can start now.” The man who leaned against the wall straightened, the corners of his lips upturned. “I’m Jeonghan. I can control plant life, and I’m immune to poisons or toxins that have plant based origins.” 

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “Just Jeonghan?” 

Jeonghan snorted. “What else do you need to know?” He sneered, but not unkindly. 

This solicited an awkward, tense silence that filled the room uncomfortably. Lamp man dimmed the lighting once more, and took it upon himself to clear the tension. 

“I’m Lee Seokmin. I can mess with electricity and energy, things like that, but I’m also pretty fast. Ah--I look forward to working with you.” Seokmin had a positive, friendly energy about him. 

Jihoon couldn’t help but notice that the quiet, sophisticated presence closest to him was observing Jeonghan silently.   
He couldn’t but wonder what his ability was-- he seemed so unbelievably calm. After years of torture, it was no surprise that all of them were lacking in trust and uneager to socialize.  
He was the only one who seemed to be able to meet anyone’s gaze.

The one who was teetering back and forth on his feet grinned nervously. “Boo Seungkwan-- I can heal.” He held his arm out towards Seokmin.  
“Pinch me,” He instructed.   
Seokmin stared at him in mild confusion, but complied regardless. Seungkwan yelped slightly, and he followed. 

Seokmin gaped. “I felt that,” 

Seungkwan nodded, seeming to be slightly calmer than before. “I can inflict what I feel onto others too.” 

He chuckled a bit, before turning his gaze to Jihoon. 

Jihoon cleared his throat. “Right. I’m Lee Jihoon. I have cognitive abilities-- but I can also manipulate time a bit.” Jihoon hoped that he didn’t sound arrogant. 

Jeonghan leaned in intently. “Manipulate time? How so?” 

Jihoon waved his hands around, unsure of how to express his gift in words. “Not time itself, but the time of an object,” His voice was lilted-- Jihoon hadn’t spoke with anyone in years. 

Jihoon shuffled over to the lamp that rested idly on the table, before shoving it roughly with his right hand. The lamp tilted over, and Jihoon spotted everyone flinch from the glass that would soon shatter across the floor. Instead, the lamp halted before impact-- and slowly retracted into its original placement. 

Seokmin whistled. 

The mysterious man was last, and Jihoon was perplexed on where his strange amount of confidence came from. 

His voice was soft spoken. “Hey. You can call me Joshua,” He placed his hands together, his expression pleased. “I’m an empath. I can sense how people are feeling-- along with some broken thoughts here and there.” 

Joshua, despite his nature-- seemed somewhat hesitant at the prospect of revealing his full name. “There are other things, but we can discuss that later.” He seemed to be especially fond of Jeonghan-- his reserved grin seemed to grow when their eyes met.

A knock sounded on the door. 

A tall, wolfish face appeared in the doorway. “We’re supposed to meet in the training room-- you can follow me.” 

His gangly frame disappeared along a stretched hallway without checking to see if they were following. 

The training room was incredibly large. It had punching bags (one of them was already torn, and a guy was laughing and rubbing his neck in mild embarrassment over it). A mat covered the center, and a dignified man around their age was holding a bag filled with some sort of red cloth.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook. I’ll be supervising this session.” He stood confidently in the center, practically demanding attention. “One person from each team will compete. The team with the most red cloths win,” He held up a small red flag. 

Jungkook smirked. “If your flag is pulled, you’re out. No killing, seriously injuring, or leaving the arena-- other than that, the freedom is yours.”

Jungkook stepped off towards the sidelines. 

Jeonghan spoke up, brows furrowed. “I can’t use my abilities indoors-- that gives them an advantage,” He gestured to the other two teams, who were either scattered around or mingled together-- making it hard to predict who was teamed with who.

Jungkook tsked. “On missions, you won’t always be in your element. We’ll practice outdoors tomorrow.” 

Jeonghan seemed rather unsatisfied with that answer, but only huffed slightly in protest. 

Seungkwan studied the people around them anxiously. Jihoon almost chuckled at his wide eyes.

“You have the perfect defense mechanism-- they’ll never see it coming,” He offered a small hand on his shoulder. 

Seungkwan looked up at him gratefully. 

Another tall presence spoke up, though they were different from the wolfish man who fetched them. His voice was low and it resonated throughout the room easily. 

“They have one more person on their team. The one who can’t use his powers indoors-- he shouldn’t have to participate.” The man pointed over towards Jeonghan, who seemed a little taken aback at having someone else speak for him, but not displeased.

Another boy spoke up-- he was hanging around a darkened corner, and before his voice filled the room it seemed as though he were talking to someone.   
“What if you don’t have abilities made for combat-- shouldn’t that disqualify you as well?”

Jungkook blinked at him, before addressing Jeonghan.   
“What is your ability?”

Jeonghan studied his fingers. “Plant manipulation and toxin immunity-- nothing else.” He replied disinterestedly. 

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. “Even if your abnormalities aren’t suited for fights, as long as you have something else to work with-- you will be participating. This disqualifies only Jeonghan, as far as I am aware.” 

Jihoon, along with several others glared at him coldly for the use of the word ‘abnormality’. It was a term that was used medically during their imprisonment-- it was a word that only invoked memories of suffering.   
Aside from that, Jihoon noted that Jungkook must have already been aware of their powers.   
No wonder he seemed so excited-- he must have paired the competitors based on ability alone. Not only that, but there were multiple security cameras that aligned the walls. Jihoon wondered if anyone else was watching.

Jungkook glanced briefly at a paper he was holding-- most likely inscribed with the details of the combatants and who they would be facing.  
That was when Jihoon noticed something peculiar. 

Two men were standing together near a darkened corner-- conversing while staring at it. Not only this, but their eyes flickered over to Jungkook several times. Jihoon thought that he saw a brief blur of movement, before blinking.

Another group seemed to be doing something similar. Rather, their eyes flitted to the list in Jungkook’s grasp.   
Another blur that was barely visible-- just a rush of movement with no definite shape, as though the wind was blowing.   
Joshua came up beside him, hand placed on his hip. “You’ve noticed it as well?” He murmured softly. 

Jihoon turned to him. “What is it exactly?” He replied with uncertainty. 

Joshua seemed to be analyzing the groups as he spoke. “I suspect the other two groups each have someone with invisibility-- they’re each feeling smug, unaware of the other.” 

He continued after a brief pause. “The group near the corner-- they have someone else with a similar power as well. You can see a shadow move briefly if you look long enough.” 

The members of their team seemed to have listened in. Jeonghan frowned a bit. “If one team has two members that can disguise themselves, then why do we have none? That seems unfair.” He sighed. 

Seungkwan seemed tentative, though not afraid. “Joshua, did you get all of that just by their feelings?” 

Joshua shook his head. “They each feel confidence-- more than what I would consider typical for something like this.” His arms were outstretched, grasping at the air for words. 

“It wasn’t just that, though. I got bits and pieces of their thoughts. I also had a feeling that we’d be lacking something that the other’s had-- I suppose I’ve been looking for it from the start.” 

Joshua grinned. “I’ll be back in a minute-- try to make it look like I’m still conscious.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Before anyone could question his motives, Joshua nearly collapsed to the ground-- Jeonghan caught him, and tried to make it seem as though his head were leaning on his shoulder. When his body began to tilt, Jeonghan snaked an arm around his waist. 

Seokmin laughed. “That looks...natural.” 

Seungkwan let out a puff of breathy giggling. “He actually looks dead-- there’s no way no one else will notice something that obvious,”

Jeonghan’s face was flushed, but he sniggered at Seokmin and Seungkwan’s comments. 

“Let them think he’s dead-- it’ll keep them busy.” Jihoon smiled as he replied.   
A few heavy beats of silence passed and turned on into minutes. Concerned glances were shared, along with the occasional questioning of Joshua’s credibility and mental state.

Suddenly, Joshua inhaled dramatically and his eyes shot open. Jeonghan awkwardly untangled them both, and Joshua was so obviously flustered that Jihoon couldn’t help but snort. 

Despite their newfound freedom, Jeonghan and Joshua were still standing in close proximity. “What was that about?” 

A smile graced Joshua’s cherry lips. “Astral projection-- an out of body experience.”  
He grinned cheekily. “I saw the paper and eavesdropped a bit before coming back.” 

Seokmin clapped him on the back while Seungkwan exclaimed something along the lines of “That’s amazing!” 

Jeonghan was regarding Joshua with a look that Jihoon was unfamiliar with. He chose not to focus on it, and instead thanked Joshua sincerely. 

He only rubbed his neck shyly in response.   
They each knew of their respective opponents.

Seungkwan would be facing Choi Seungcheol and Xu Minghao. Seungcheol was a natural fighter, and was most likely to resort to violence. Seungkwan would only be able to inflict his own pain onto him-- he was uncertain of whether or not Seungcheol would continue his advances after this.  
Minghao could manipulate and become shadows, as well as block out light. With this in mind, it would be assumed that he could also see in the darkness. 

Joshua noted that it was most likely that he would take out Seungcheol first, since his abilities were more of a threat. It seemed that Minghao had the upper hand. 

Jihoon peeked at the shadowy corner, feeling slightly less perturbed at now knowing what exactly was so strange about it. 

Next would be Joshua. He would be competing against Kim Mingyu and Lee Chan.  
Joshua shuddered a bit at mentioning Mingyu’s name. He had the ability to petrify and possess, as well as metal manipulation. Chan could create storms and control the weather, and although it was likely that he would be a more formidable enemy outside-- it was entirely possible that he would create wind. Joshua explained that with his ability, he had to take elements already present in the atmosphere. Wind seemed to be his strong suit, and all that was needed was speed and direction.

Jihoon would be battling against Kwon Soonyoung and Choi Hansol. Joshua seemed incredibly concerned for Jihoon’s future state as he explained their abilities.   
Soonyoung was fire-- and Joshua admitted that he had a somewhat negative aura surrounding him. Hansol was ice, and he had an ultimate goal in mind, though Joshua wasn’t positive on it’s meaning.

Seokmin was last-- and he was already bouncing on his toes. He was going against Jeon Wonwoo and Wen Junhui.  
Joshua swallowed and casted a worried glance towards Seokmin. 

“This fight isn’t in your favor,” He informed him quietly.

Seokmin stopped bouncing, and a look of disappointment fell across his features. 

“You’re fighting two people who can turn invisible.” He shuffled his feet.

“What!” Seokmin lamented loudly, a look of defeat in his eyes. “That makes me the most obvious target!”

Joshua nodded, his face determined. “But you’re quick, right? Don’t stop moving. And you can control electricity?” 

Seokmin’s eyes lit up. “I can control electricity.” 

They exchanged a knowing look, faces pleased. Jeonghan questioned their motives. 

“I can be painful to touch-- if they touch me I’ll shock them.”

Jihoon caught on and smirked. “And if you keep moving they won’t be able to catch you anyway-- one of them will give in eventually. They’ll become vulnerable.”

Seokmin cheerfully gave him a high five that stung Jihoon’s hand afterwards.

Joshua hushed them.

Jungkook called for attention, eyes bright. “Boo Seungkwan, Xu Minghao and Choi Seungcheol-- please step up.”

 

Chan wished him luck and smiled encouragingly. Junhui nodded at him, though Minghao wasn’t confident in what that meant, exactly. Soonyoung grinned and ruffled his hair.  
“Hey, you’ve got this. Go for Seungcheol first--he’ll be busy trying to figure out what to do with the other guy.” 

Minghao appreciated the kind words, though he himself was doubting how things would turn out. He crossed the room with eyes on his back-- those outside of his team hadn’t seen his appearance until now. Chan had mentioned something about an intimidation tactic, the fact that he had been hidden in plain sight was supposedly unnerving.

Minghao kept his face neutral as Jungkook tied the red cloth along his wrist. Seungcheol was smirking, and Seungkwan had his eyes trained on Minghao. 

The rules were repeated for safety’s sake, (though more so for Seungcheol, who was running his finger under his head to mimic decapitation), and then the count off began. 

Some were letting out whoops and hollers for their own respective teammate. Others were watching with silent interest and bated breaths. 

The countdown began. Minghao’s heart was beating almost painfully against his chest.   
He had this match. He knew that much.

They would be expecting him to convert into one of their shadows-- they wouldn’t be expecting darkness. 

A small bang sounded out from the palm of Jungkook’s hands, signalling the start.  
Minghao inhaled.

Light drained from the arena. From the outside, it would look like a strange, darkened bubble.  
Lucky for Minghao, a lack of light wasn’t much of a problem. 

A yelp sounded out, most likely from Seungkwan. Seungcheol had heard his small cry and was outstretching his hands blindly-- groping around for him.

Minghao fought the urge to laugh. He ducked underneath’s Seungcheol’s exasperating grabbing and hastily untied his cloth, stuffing it into his pocket afterwards.

That was one.

He shoved Seungcheol backwards-- he heard him curse once he fell out into the light.  
“Damn, that was quick.”

Seungkwan gulped, his posture stiffened and awkward. He covered his mouth to prevent noise from escaping his lips.

Minghao crept up behind him and snaked an arm around his wrist.  
“Boo.” He giggled. 

Seungkwan nearly jolted in the air from pure shock. Minghao thought that his pun had been genius, and had honestly at least hoped for some appreciation. 

With maroon fabric in hand, Minghao allowed light to seep back into the enclosed space.   
He held up the cloth triumphantly.

Jungkook applauded him. “And the winner is Xu Minghao,” 

Seungkwan glared at the flooring. “How could I have done anything against that?” His tone was almost whiney, but mainly disappointed. 

Seungcheol clutched his fists, but he grinned at Minghao as he passed. “Good job-- you’re hard to beat.”

Chan cheered once he ventured back into their secluded corner. “That was so cool!”

Minghao thanked him, before converting into a shadowy form once more. He couldn’t seem to get used to all the staring, and found the state to be more comfortable.

Someone from another team called out to Jungkook. Minghao thought that Junhui might’ve mentioned his name--Seokmin, maybe?

“You have abilities too?” His eyes were wide. 

Jungkook snorted. “What, did you think you were the only one? And you might as well call it what it’s classified as.” 

His answer was met with steely glares, and Jungkook seemed to find it amusing.  
Minghao didn’t know how to feel about it.

 

Joshua fought the nerves that were bubbling inside of him. His clairvoyance wasn’t something that he could necessarily call upon whenever he wanted, unlike some of his other talents. All of his gifts had their own respective downfalls-- astral projection made him exhausted depending on the prolonged usage, feeling other’s emotions alongside his own was constantly overwhelming. And the endless amount of possible future predictions made his skull ache.

Mingyu could manipulate metal, and most things in the room were made of various steels and irons-- it was no wonder he was already eyeing Joshua and Chan down, as though he had already won.

Joshua could feel his confidence from where he stood. Chan seemed to be self assured, though not as much as to assume his position over his rivals. 

He braced himself for his name to be called. Joshua would have to rely on short term urges rather than visions themselves, it seemed. It would be his only chance.

Jungkook leaned against the side of the arena lazily. “Lee Chan, Hong Jisoo, and Kim Mingyu-- you’re up.”  
His eyes flitted between Mingyu and Chan. Joshua felt a pang of annoyance at his apparent lack of importance.

His teammates cast him a few questioning glances at the revealing of his name.  
Joshua stalked upwards towards the platform. 

He spoke loud enough for most to hear. “Call me Joshua.”

Jungkook nodded.   
Mingyu hovered behind him, arms crossed. Chan hustled (coming from the farthest point in the room), and once he arrived he outstretched his hand.

“I look forward to going against you two,” His tone was warm. 

Mingyu took his hand first, and seemed to squeeze it a bit, though not unkindly. Joshua followed with a shake that was much more passive in comparison. 

An increasingly bad feeling was making his fingers tremor. Joshua looked between Chan and Mingyu with ever growing caution.

‘--winning’ Was playing through Mingyu’s mind on repeat, making it difficult for Joshua to concentrate.

Joshua couldn’t seem to page Chan’s thoughts nearly as easily, and that only made his limbs more disconnected.  
Still, before the round began and he wouldn’t have time to process the slightest change in emotion or feeling-- Joshua closed his eyes, if only for a brief moment.

There was blood, or at least something dark and painful. It was blurry and confusing, and voices faded in and out, as though he were underwater.  
He inhaled shakily-- this wasn’t going to be pleasant. 

A loud bang sounded from his right, causing him to jump.

Joshua wanted to avoid eye contact with Mingyu if at all possible. He was currently wielding a metal pole he had taken from the edge of the arena-- it was melting and mending itself in his grasp.

Chan had his arms outstretched in front of him, prepared to attack.

The long, gleaming steel was now smaller in parts and resembling daggers. Mingyu bounded towards him, causing Joshua to flinch in shock.

Joshua rotated on his foot to attempt to avoid him, only to be bumped into Chan.  
A blast of wind knocked Joshua to the ground roughly.

Chan pinned him down, his grip clammy and movements rushed as he tried to untie Joshua’s cloth before Mingyu could attack.

Unfortunately, Chan’s position left him susceptible to attack from multiple points.

A glint of steel and the sound of something whirling through the air was all that Joshua could process.   
He wrenched his hand away from Chan’s clutch in time for it to be pierced by a metal, blade like object.

He had blocked Chan’s side from being impaled. The pain seared through his skin and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Even so, several of Chan’s vital organs could have been pierced had Joshua not intervened.  
Chan rolled off of him in a daze, just in time to avoid another round of whirling, pointed steel.

It nicked Chan’s ear and he hissed slightly.   
The situation seemed to register in his mind, and he looked at Joshua thoughtfully before thanking him.

Joshua hesitated to pull the flaring object from his hand, but the eyes of Seungkwan who shook his head while looking incredibly mortified.

Chan confronted Mingyu with his eyes directed towards the ground. “That could’ve critically injured me-- why were you aiming for my side?” His voice wavered.

Mingyu shrugged. “I didn’t, so what does it matter? We’ve been through worse than this,” He spoke with a slightly irked tone.

Joshua stood once again, doing his best to ignore the bloody ache that was his left hand.

Chan thrust in hands outward in anger, hoping that his wind would cause Mingyu to tumble backward.

Joshua could only barely analyze what was running through their thoughts. Chan was unnerved, and Joshua winced when he caught wind of his rage.

Mingyu seemed to be slightly regretful of his carelessness, yet also mainly unbothered. 

Chan’s winds lacked their prior state from his neglected concentration. His back faced Joshua, who was being yelled at by multiple people to give up his flag and seek treatment.   
His bad feeling still made bile rise in his throat-- his hand was bloodied, but his disturbing vision hadn’t been fulfilled. Joshua had to make sure that the possibility was diminished, he couldn’t leave yet.

He heard the frustrated grunts of Chan. He must have glanced upwards and met Mingyu’s stare, because he was now immobilized. 

Joshua’s motive faltered. Mingyu enclosed in on him-- Chan’s red cloth tucked into his pocket.

“You know-- you shouldn’t be so concerned about your rivals. I could’ve done you a favor,” His eyes were insistent.

Joshua’s eyes were downcasted and red. His wound throbbed dully, making him shudder. 

“I had a vision,” He whispered with a voice that quivered in pain.  
It was the only explanation that he felt could be provided. 

His hand had darted outwards of his own accord-- that’s truly all there was. 

Joshua stared past his face, gaze averted.   
An overwhelming sense of envy invaded his system, causing Joshua to blink in confusion. He belated realized that the emotion was not radiating from him, but from someone nearby.

Something forceful was shoved against Joshua’s stomach, leaving him confused and winded. His eyes flitted downwards to see a trace of gleaming silver jutting out.

A gangly frame stood over him in shock. Joshua couldn’t seem to focus on his face, but the presence dropped to their feet in horror. A sharp pain jolted in the pit of his stomach, causing him to wince and inhale shakily. It was hard to sense anything but the blood pooling around him, but he could feel regret and sorrow reeling in the back of his mind.

“Shit--that was an accident. Fuck,” Mingyu muttered incoherently, his own teammates ushering him away and tugging on his arm.

 

Hands pulled him to his feet, and Seungkwan was by his side. A wetness was trailing down Joshua’s face, and standing became too burdensome.

Jeonghan hoisted him upward while Seungkwan assisted and directed them to a room resembling a janitor’s closet supplied with medical equipment.

Agony sparked in his abdomen. 

Seungkwan had him lying on his back while he worked tediously. 

Joshua’s eyes were closed, pants heavy and uneven.

Jeonghan held his hand tightly and brushed the hair that clung to his sweaty face away. His breath tickled Joshua’s ear as he murmured softly to him.  
Joshua doesn’t remember much after that.

 

Soonyoung’s mouth was agape at the sight of the limp boy being dragged away with blood pooling around his legs and staining his clothes. Jungkook reprimanded an apologetic and slightly panicked Mingyu, who seemed unsteady on his feet and pale in the face.

He exclaimed that it was accident repeatedly (to the point where Jungkook had to inform him that he understood at least four times). Seungcheol led him away, saying something about fresh air while avoiding the stunned looks that were being exchanged.

The room became heavy. 

“None of you have mastered your abilities, and maybe you never will. That’s why you’re being trained before you’re entrusted with a mission, so nothing like this happens during an emergency.” Jungkook spoke clearly, his gaze piercing, daring anyone to contradict him.

No one did.

Though Soonyoung thought that what had just happened, in of itself-- should probably constitute as an emergency.

Chan stood rigid beside him, brows furrowed, dark bangs sticking to his forehead. He wiped his clammy hands on the ugly beige khakis they were assigned to wear.   
“Hey, he’ll be okay, right? That Joshua guy?” His voice was small and concerned. 

Soonyoung hummed in vague acknowledgement, though he was unsure how to respond. No one in that room had been at the end of a selfless deed for a long, long time.   
And the fact that Joshua himself had decided to save Chan was impressive, first and foremost. They were all damaged and lacking in trust, or at the very least, abundant in suspicious and distrusting thoughts. 

“They have a healer, remember? He’ll be fine.” Minghao was certainly better at the whole comforting thing, or maybe he was just a realist. Either way, Soonyoung was jittery and impatient.  
He was taking steps to atonement. What better way to redeem yourself than to take out the people that tainted the world, who did things worse than his own actions?  
Though, he supposed his body count would be a difficult number to surpass.  
Soonyoung’s ability was a curse to him. It had hindered his life, and it fed his anger. It turned him into something that was ruthless and unrecognizable. 

Soonyoung was scared of hurting those who were dear to him once more. After all, flames only consume and damage and burn.

The only solution was to distance himself. Soonyoung had to bite his tongue numerous times to keep from starting good natured ice breakers, or asking fun questions about his fellow unit members. 

Because every time he looked around him, all he saw was the room being demolished by raging scarlet.

He barely registered his name being called over the constant light buzzing in his ears.   
He strode up to the podium where Jungkook stood with his hands pocketed casually. 

“Is this place fireproof?” Soonyoung grinned. 

Jungkook nodded absentmindedly. “Most elements won’t damage this place too much-- but don’t go overboard, try to keep it in the arena.” 

Unlike Chan, Soonyoung didn’t need elements from the atmosphere to use his gift. Soonyoung didn’t just make and manipulate fire-- he was fire itself.

Lee Jihoon was the next to shuffle over. He was small in stature, but certainly not in presence. He could feel Jihoon analyzing him already, eyes glinting.  
Hansol regarded them both cooly. He was composed, bordering on defensive-- almost as though he expected a backhanded remark about Mingyu and his actions.  
There were none, but none of them bothered to fill the quiet with friendly pleasantries.

Their minds were all on a similar page.   
They weren’t on the same team, nor were they working together-- at least not yet.  
Playing nice wouldn’t help them.

A smirk pulled at the corners of Jungkook’s lips. “You all know the rules-- play fair,”

 

Soonyoung felt the warmth twist and engulf his arms-- and then his body.  
He darted forwards, striking out towards the figures he could vaguely see through the smoke. 

On his left, his flames suddenly slowed. Alarmed, Soonyoung turned to see Jihoon pivot away from the destructive force’s path with his arm outstretched, before dropping it lazily to his side. 

The flames scorched a now empty path. 

Soonyoung felt a small smile break out across his face despite himself. So that’s what the whole time manipulation was about.

Steam filled the air, and Soonyoung’s body broke out into chills. Hansol had made a barrier of ice that was gnawing away at Soonyoung’s fire, much to his indignation. 

Hansol peeked out slyly behind his wall, a satisfied expression on his face.   
A blast of snow came hurdling in his general direction, and Soonyoung instinctively responding by sending a jet of simmering heat towards Hansol in retaliation.

Both elements met in the center, creating thick fog that shot out in all different directions. They were both testing the other, seeing whose ability and willpower could surpass the other. 

The fog began to expand and quicken far too rapidly, filling the arena and obscuring vision.

Jihoon stood off the side, looking on at them both bemusedly. 

Ah, so he was also a walking ‘fast forward’ button-- that was slightly irksome.

Icy air cut through the steam, and Hansol seemed a bit put off himself.

Frost began eating away at Jihoon’s feet, soon turning into a reflective chunk of ice. 

Soonyoung watched in a state of fixation as the ice retracted itself, as though the world was on rewind.   
He noted that Jihoon’s legs were wet and cold looking, a light blue in color.

Jihoon may be able to rid the substance, but the effects of biting temperatures were inescapable. 

With this in mind, Soonyoung felt a sliver of satisfaction flow through his veins.

Jihoon may be a genius with a remarkable talent, but he was not untouchable. 

Hansol’s eyes were trained on what remained of his frost. Jihoon’s exposed shins, that were now covered in goose bumps. 

He seemed to have processed what Soonyoung himself was thinking over. 

Blue tinted ice surrounded Jihoon, and began closing in. He was trapped underneath some sort of cold, dome shaped hell. Soonyoung felt a shudder run down his spine simply thinking about the frigid temperature.

Whatever ice Jihoon managed to manipulate was easily replaced-- Hansol was resorting to attempting to exhaust him, much like he had tried to do with Soonyoung only moments before.

He could make out the strain and effort that Hansol was putting through due to the way his arms began to tremble slightly. 

Soonyoung supposed that since he was made of fire and all things warm-- that Hansol was made of ice, and all things cool.  
And he also supposed that fire probably wouldn’t harm his skin nearly as much as it would someone else-- it would have to have more traces of moisture, surely. 

A fiery blast knocked Hansol off of his feet as he was swallowed by a raging, violent blaze. Soonyoung waltzed over to find him giving off a small amount of steam.   
His body was defending the flames with his own talents-- as Soonyoung had initially suspected. 

Because of this combined with Hansol’s previous efforts-- his energy was lacking, he seemed to be barely conscious. Soonyoung was honestly impressed, he hadn’t been able to tell that he was so close to his limitations.

Soonyoung snatched the red cloth and beamed. Hansol was begrudgingly dragged away by his companion with darkened hair and a drastic height advantage, coming second only to Mingyu-- who was still seated outside somewhere.

Soonyoung turned his gaze to Jihoon, who was waiting patiently. 

This would be interesting.

 

Soonyoung was painfully aware of the fact that they both were dancing in circles-- each avoiding directly attacking the other.

Jihoon because his only defense was Soonyoung’s attempts themselves. 

Soonyoung because unlike Hansol, his fire would probably be considerably detrimental to Jihoon’s physical health-- and he didn’t plan on being the other asshole to KO another team member.   
Jihoon’s gaze bore into his own, arms crossed defiantly. 

Soonyoung couldn’t back away from a challenge, not like this. The stepping stones towards redemption were laid out before his eyes, starting with one minor victory.

He could feel a slight buzz in his hands, warmth spreading throughout his veins. 

That was when it suddenly hit him.

Jihoon was small in stature, and without an ability to keep Soonyoung from taking that petty cloth that was tied clumsily around his exposed forearm.  
This match was his for the taking.

Though, now the thought had finally reached him-- guilt constricted his throat and made breathing difficult.

It just didn’t seem fair. Sure, he still planned on winning, but the humiliation that Jihoon might face made Soonyoung falter.

Jihoon, meanwhile, scowled.

A small figure darted towards him. 

Soonyoung’s jaw went slack as Lee Jihoon kneed him viciously in the stomach-- he barely kept himself from doubling over.

“You’re underestimating me. What the hell was that face for?” His tone was bitter, voice low and raspy.

Jihoon’s eyes glinted. The curve of his eyes and the slope of his nose up close somehow daunting.

“I’m not here for you to take mercy on me,” 

Soonyoung was sent reeling from a direct hit to the face.

An uppercut. A kick to the side. Another punch.

Jihoon held Soonyoung up by his collar, knuckles bruised.

“Pity doesn’t exist in the real world,”   
Jihoon teasingly touched the side of his face, fingers dragging lightly against tanned skin. Soonyoung felt chills run down his spine.

“If you want to win, then give it everything you have.”

Soonyoung spat towards the ground, before heat made his fingertips tingle. 

He grabbed Jihoon’s exposed skin with sweltering hands, causing the latter to hiss with pain.   
Soonyoung slammed him over his shoulder and onto the damaged, element ridden flooring.

And yet, as he hastily untied the red from around Jihoon’s now burned arm-- he was surprised to find a lack of kicking, punching-- or struggle altogether.

He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, tickling soft skin-- bangs brushing against Jihoon’s cheek.

“Yeah? Well I think you should follow your own advice.”   
Heart racing, head reeling-- Soonyoung stood and offered Jihoon a hand.

He swatted it away with disdain, eyes trained to the ground.

Soonyoung wondered who Jihoon had really been trying to convince.

 

Wonwoo honestly found it kind of hilarious, kind of appalling to see that Seokmin-- a kid he robbed all those years ago-- was standing across the room from him now, patting his teammate on the back despite his loss.  
What he didn’t know wouldn’t harm him, though. There was no goal in bringing up the past, and frankly all he wanted was to forget it all.

His name was called and he blinked. Hansol was slumped against the wall, sitting in silent dejection from his own failure. Still, he wished Wonwoo luck. 

The team situated in the corner was doing far better than the others-- much to everyone’s sheer annoyance. Seungcheol was back, having said something along the lines of ‘Mingyu was permitted to retire to his room early’, not that Wonwoo cared all that much.

The guy was a walking basketcase.  
Still, he had given Wonwoo this look like he knew something-- a grin full of secrets.m  
It weirded him the fuck out, honestly. But at least he was trying to be friendly. 

Everyone was starting to get antsy. People who had already trained were fiddling with their shirts, or even talking to members outside their own group. 

Even Jungkook was having to hold his face up by the palm of his hand, eyes unfocused.   
“Jeon Wonwoo, Lee Seokmin, Wen Junhui-- you’re up.” 

Seokmin was practically walking sunshine, he greeted them both warmly.   
Junhui was charismatic, either that or fake as hell. Wonwoo couldn’t be bothered to differentiate. In fact, he was unsure of what to say to either of them. “I’m Wonwoo, let’s hope none of us end up like that other guy who literally got stabbed.”  
He thought better of it.

There were a lot of perks when it came to invisibility. However those were only enjoyable when you alone were the only one blessed enough to have said privileges. 

The fact that Junhui was also currently incapable of being seen was honestly almost as irritable as Seokmin running in circles like an idiot while radiating static.

Wonwoo willed one of the metal poles that Mingyu had been using into the air, and began to swing it erratically. If he couldn’t attack Seokmin or Junhui directly, then he would just have to knock someone with a pole. Simple logic, really.

Seokmin somehow managed to run straight into the metal, much to Wonwoo’s surprise. Sparks went flying, and Wonwoo could feel his ears buzzing and his dark hair standing on end. 

Junhui must have been too close to the blast, because he was now fully visible, hair rustled and eyes wide with mild confusion. 

Seokmin yanked his cloth and thanked him with almost too much sincere delight. 

He seemed to be tiring out, sweat was dripping from his forehead. Still, his barrier of electricity remained impenetrable. His eyes scanned around for Wonwoo eagerly.

In all honesty, Wonwoo only agreed to becoming a government tool because he thought that the opportunity to escape would finally be realistic, and not something he spent his days longing for.  
Now he had an implant embedded in his wrist, and it only infuriated him further. What was the point in living his life for unseen people that he owed nothing to?

He wanted to escape. He wanted to be free.

He also wasn’t paying attention when Seokmin barrelled into him, and knocked them both to the ground. Wonwoo felt energy surge through him, fraying his nerves and making his hair stick outwards.

Seokmin sat up apologetically, and gladly untied the red cotton from his wrist. “Thank you,” 

Wonwoo was helped to his feet by Seungcheol, who was scratching his head awkwardly. They hadn’t gotten anything.

It was almost laughable, but Wonwoo could only muster a pathetic wheeze.

So much for freedom.

 

Jeonghan cradled Joshua into his arms carefully, eyeing the woman in uncertainty.

She had come not long after Seungkwan had began his panicked healing, mumbling about how he had never had to heal something so critical.

She had introduced herself as Kim Yongsun, an experienced healer. She offered to assist, saying that Seungkwan and Jeonghan should continue watching the matches.

Instead, Seungkwan asked to be directed to the dorms to rest. Jeonghan was skeptical of everyone and everything in this facility, and insisted on staying.

The minutes ticked by in heavy silence. Jeonghan wanted to ask questions about this organization, about her experiences as well. He fought the urge to ask about whether or not she too had been tortured for the vast majority of her life.

She eventually heaved a sigh of relief. Jeonghan peeked over her shoulder to see the reddened wound closing, though it was still a gorey and uncomfortable sight to behold.

Yongsun smiled with tired eyes. “He’ll be fine. You should go to your dorms-- down the hall, take a left. The names are posted outside the doors.” 

Jeonghan thanked her, silently hoping that at least a single flower would be welcoming him.

Joshua had fallen asleep under some sort of sedative that Yongsun had acquired, from where Jeonghan was reluctant to ask.  
The dorms were only a few rooms, with a surprising lack of space. Jeonghan was pleased to see that he and Joshua would be roommates, not only for the familiarity-- but because it would be nice to monitor his recovery.  
The door was already partly opened, and Jeonghan pushed it open with ease.

It was only after he had managed to tuck Joshua under cloud colored sheets that he realized that the had neglected to read under the first two names on the list posted outside.  
Still, he couldn’t be bothered to check.

Jeonghan traced Joshua’s face, from the curve of his eyes to the downturned corners of his lips. He was unsure of why Joshua had accustomed to him so quickly-- he kept sparing glances and small smiles.

Though, Jeonghan wanted to trust him. Or maybe it just was because he felt bad that he nearly died, or something.

In any case, the admiring stares continued until another presence pushed open the door with a goofy smile on his face.

Their eyes met.

“Kim Mingyu,” Jeonghan couldn’t keep the snarl from his tone as he sat on the edge of Joshua’s cot.

Mingyu swallowed thickly. “H-hi,” His tone was shaky.  
“I, uh,” He directed his attention to the floorboards. “I didn’t mean to hurt him that badly.” 

Jeonghan spared Mingyu a scathing reply, and just focused all of his resentment in a single glare.

Mingyu seemed to understand, and sat on a bed opposite from them both, seemingly wounded.

Chan entered with a broadened smile and an optimistic “Hi.”

His eyes flickered from Mingyu to Jeonghan, and finally Joshua.

Chan backtracked his steps immediately. “...I’ll catch up with you guys later,”   
He closed the door behind him with frightened eyes.

Nothing could be heard except the gentle lull of Joshua’s rhythmic breathing.

 

Jimin sighed into his hands. “Are you serious? You changed the room order?”

Yoongi shrugged and smirked into the coffee he was drinking. “It’s been boring lately--figured having those guys as roommates would be hilarious.” 

Jimin tried to hide the smile playing at his lips.

“See? You think it’s funny too,”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ^^ I love Joshua and he didn't deserve it, I'm so sorry. Also, I'll try to distribute POV's fairly but with such a large group it will be tough, but please know that I'm not purposely trying to exclude anyone! And any members that are slightly villainized will only be that way temporarily, and it's not because I like them any less than others.
> 
> Tags may change as the story develops, but the ships will remain the same. Some chapters may have another rating that's different from the one I gave the overall fanfic. Gore/blood is a possibility for future chapters as well.  
> Criticism/ comments are welcome! Thank you again for reading. I'll do my best to update whenever I can :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forest isn't a fun place--for anyone.

Hansol couldn’t say that he detested his roommates, exactly-- it was more so that he wished for a quieter bunch, at least.

Seungcheol was insistently asking to playfully brawl with Seokmin, something about brute strength versus speed, or something. Seokmin was only chuckling nervously in reply, (Seungcheol was a bit intimidating after all) and he kept flickering the lights. Or at least Hansol assumed that was him, it could also be due to faulty wiring.

Junhui was the only person who didn’t have a teammate to talk with, and Hansol felt a small sense of pity for him having to adjust to such bold presences. Seungkwan had claimed the extra bed that was dead center in the middle of the floor (Yay for running out of space), and then grumbled when people walked on it in order to get to their respective spaces. 

Hansol’s own bedding was to the left of Seungkwan’s, whereas Seungcheol had claimed the bunk above him. Seokmin purposefully kept strutting over Seungkwan’s stuff in order to get to his mattress. A pillow was chucked at him in retaliation. 

Junhui, the only one who seemed to be settling in silently, was watching with a smirk from above Seokmin. 

Despite their room being the biggest, the door to the communal bathroom was behind the entry doorway from the hall-- taking up space where the extra bed could have fitted. Hansol sighed wistfully at the thought of having his own respective bathroom--though, it seemed that idea was rather unrealistic.   
At least they were the closest to the toilets, right? Right.

“Seokmin! I’m going to hurt you,” Seungkwan pouted slightly, attempting to mask his own giggles. 

The latter stuck his tongue out. “You’ll have to catch me first,” 

Seungcheol patted Hansol on the back, probably rougher than intended. “I think we hit the jackpot,” 

Hansol had to hide his own exasperation. “Yeah?” 

Seungcheol ruffled his hair and growled playfully. “What’s that tone for? Are you not happy with rooming with me? Huh?” 

The door was opened, causing Seungcheol to halt his current headlock that Hansol was victim of. Seungkwan dropped the lamp he was holding, because he definitely wasn’t about to throw it at anyone. Nope, not at all. Seokmin laughed at him behind his hand. Junhui simply looked up, eyes gleaming bemusedly. 

The man in the doorway bore a bright smile and a positive attitude. Wonwoo would probably hate him instantaneously.

“Jung Hoseok--it’s a pleasure. I’m just checking in to see that everyone is settled in,” His gaze roamed the room in slight confusion, though if Hoseok had any comments he refrained from speaking them aloud. 

“Try not to break anything. Ah, but if you do-- come to me first. And don’t tell Namjoon.” The corners of his lips were upturned. 

Junhui blinked. “Who is that?” 

Hoseok waved his hands dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll find out later,”   
With a final wink, Hoseok turned and the shut the door gently behind him.   
Chaos and shrieking ensued once again, though Hansol honestly couldn’t say he was displeased about anything anymore.

 

Minghao was grateful to at least have Soonyoung with him. He was also eternally thankful for a lack of noise, unlike the screams that were coming from down the hall. 

Naturally, Minghao and Soonyoung shared the same bunk bed--(he would never admit that, yes, he actually did want the top bunk) and instead adamantly assured Soonyoung that the bottom was fine.

There was a small desk that separated the two bunks from each other, where Jihoon was enjoying the quiet and Wonwoo was napping in content above him. 

He had thought about resting as well, but the noise that continued from down the hall prevented it. Sighing, Minghao decided to ask if they could pipe down himself. Nothing wrong with complaining if it was for a good cause, right? Right.

The hallways were all lined with checkered tile and blue wallpaper, and Minghao found that the only thing keeping him from getting lost was the signs that were posted on every corner. The temperature was usually kept on the cooler side, which was appreciated-- the boiling dorms lacked ceiling fans. 

He was fighting the urge to turn back, because Minghao was feeling a bit nervous about waltzing in and demanding silence-- he wondered if it would make him seem pretentious. 

Minghao didn’t have to make a decision, however-- he walked straight into solid air and stumbled backwards.

Aside from him, only two others could make themselves go undetected, and one of them was currently snoring under a red quilt. 

“Junhui?” He asked tentatively. 

Junhui’s invisibility slipped away, and he smiled in embarrassment. “Ah, sorry-- I wanted to escape my roomies without them noticing. Guess I should’ve been paying attention to who was behind me, though.” 

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. “They’re being kind of loud, it was giving me a headache.” 

Minghao felt heat rise to his cheeks and he nodded. Junhui was the first one he had introduced himself to, before Chan and Soonyoung had arrived. Maybe that was why his presence alone was so comforting.

Aside from that, Minghao now felt fully awake. “Do you want to come with me?” He inquired bashfully.

Minghao wanted to slam his head into the wall. He was going to Junhui’s dorm-- how lame would that sound? He didn’t have anywhere else planned. Ugh, how embarrassing.

Junhui grinned at him, oblivious to his friend’s mental dilemma. “Okay. Where to?”

Minghao felt fluttery and weird, and it was detering his focus. He didn’t recall things like this before he was instituted-- but he supposed side effects were to be expected. 

“U-um, I--” Minghao stammered and swallowed harshly, before a familiar voice slung their arm around his shoulder. 

“Hey! Are you two going outside?” Chan’s eyes flitted between them, gaze curious and voice bubbly.

Minghao silently thanked whatever God had created the saviour that was Lee Chan. What an angel, an angel that can do no wrong, surely.

“Yeah! Yeah, we were. What about you?” Minghao smiled at Chan in pure adoration.

Chan shook his head which was now hung low. “Nah, I just got back. Too much drama back in my room.” 

He untangled himself from Minghao before bounding down towards the end of the hall, waving to both of them.

Junhui waved back, before turning around to search for the exit. Minghao was still facing Chan, who was smiling deviously and and sending him a thumbs up.

Flustered, Minghao spun around. What was that supposed to mean, anyway?

Junhui loosely grabbed his wrist and guided him towards the right, mumbling directions to himself. 

There was a large opening filled with tables and chairs, and something pleasant wafting from the kitchen. Minghao felt a stab of hunger, and wondered when their next meal was-- they hadn’t eaten since their arrival around four hours ago.

A door was firmly placed nearing the back, the word ‘exit’ flashing in a bright red above the door frame. Junhui beamed in satisfaction, and led them outside. 

Minghao was hit by the humidity of the setting sun, which basked the mountain landscape in peach and gold colored lighting. The clouds overhead were beginning to turn a grey hue.

Fresh air hit his lungs and caused him to breathe deeply. It had been far too many years since Minghao had the pleasure of being outside.

Junhui looked on around them, transfixed. The sun painted his tan skin, and Minghao had to remind himself not to stare.

“I wish we were normal.” Minghao blurted suddenly, eyes wide in wonder from looking at the scenery around them.

Junhui broke his gaze, and turned towards him, smiling bitterly. “...Who says we aren’t normal?” 

The gentle wind made strands of his hair blow in his face. He looked at Minghao thoughtfully, eyes boring deep into his.

Minghao swallowed and turned away. “We all got caught. Because we’re not like them,” He gestured outwards, even though there were no such people around. The words that were unsaid still hung tensely in the air, ‘we suffered because we’re different’. It was something that didn’t need to be said. It was known, accepted. Minghao wrung his hands together, smile sad and resigned. “But if we were normal, we could enjoy things like this. All the time, without being trained in some secret facility,” He voice trailed off into a soft laugh, feeling a strange sense of melancholy. It felt like he was watching a scene that wasn’t his, as though it were a memory.

Junhui bumped their shoulders together. “Someday, people with gifts could make up the world. Who knows? Normal changes.” 

His smile and breathless whispering made Minghao’s breath hitch in his throat. 

Junhui’s hand bounced against his lightly. They were close in proximity, Minghao could feel his breath fanning out against his cheek.

“And frankly, normal is boring.” 

Before Minghao could muster any sort of response that wasn’t mindless sputtering, he felt a hand place itself firmly on his shoulder.

Chan’s face popped up in between them both, his arms wrapped around both of their sides. “Hey guys!” 

Minghao thought he saw Junhui scowl, and he blinked. 

Junhui’s normal smirk was apparent, and Minghao shrugged off Chan’s antsy fingers. 

Junhui poked Chan in the sides teasingly. “Hey Chan. What is it?” 

Chan laughed and tried to shove the older off of him, to no avail. He gasped in between words, which were constantly being cut off due to his own giggles.   
“We’re--eating--ow, stop! It hurts--I thought you’d like to know,” 

Chan dropped to the ground in fetal position. Junhui almost continued his attack, until Minghao piped up next to him. 

“It’s a trap. We’re outside, this is Chan’s domain.” His shoulder felt cold without Junhui’s warmth next to it.

Junhui faltered, mock alarm present on his features. “You little demon.”

Chan laughed and tugged on both of their gangly limbs, dragging them inside, where boisterous laughter and the buzz of chatter was persistent. 

Minghao had to adjust to the artificial lighting, and found that he missed the greying clouds already.

 

Seungkwan had never felt so relieved in all his days of living. There was food, and for the first time in his most recent memories it was plentiful. One of the cooks had said that the government shipped them basic necessities that were hard to obtain given their circumstances, and he was forever grateful for homemade sandwiches and crumbly biscuits. 

There were many new faces that Seungkwan didn’t recognize-- he figured that the eating area was for all residents, and not just the newest thirteen participants, which made more sense than he had originally thought. 

A man named Heechul showed him the way back after Seungkwan made a wrong turn somewhere (the halls really were incredibly confusing), a girl with a kind smile named Taeyeon informed him that this was one of their free times of the day where they could rest without worry.

Seungkwan chose to sit with his original teammates, unsure of where else to make himself comfortable. As far as he could see, the others chose to do the same. 

Joshua was there, and Seungkwan swiftly asked him about recovery. Yongsun was watching from across the wide room, seeing if she was needed, just in case something went awry. 

Joshua smiled softly, though he winced a bit in pain every now and then. Jihoon refused to allow him to get his own tray, and Jeonghan brought a comforter from their dorm, ‘just in case he needed to be more comfortable’. 

Seungkwan was in the midst of eating absentmindedly when the conversation slowly fell away, leaving room for nothing but awkward silence. Startled, he glanced upwards to see an authoritative figure standing in the middle of the large space with a megaphone. He was flanked by two others, who wore neutral expressions and the occasional grin at someone nearby. 

“For those of you who are new-- My name is Kim Namjoon. I’m in charge of your training, for the most part. It’s my job to make sure you’re prepared for extreme circumstances. I look forward to seeing how well you do.” He nodded towards some familiar faces, but Seungkwan wasn’t paying very much attention. He felt a surge of intimidation, especially since he was new and frankly naive.

There was a woman with short hair and a warm presence to which the megaphone was handed off to. “Amber Liu--defense, in case we ever get discovered or raided. It’s nice to see some new faces.” 

The last man standing was a slightly more reserved presence. He seemed a bit reluctant, but continued where the other two left off anyway.  
“Kim Junmyeon I communicate with government officials regarding missions and new recruits.”  
He let his eyes wander towards the three small groups that Seungkwan was affiliated with. 

“We know what you’ve faced. We’re glad that you’re here. We’ll be answering questions, if any of you are confused. The rest of you can disregard everything else I say,” Junmyeon smiled welcomingly. 

Seungkwan swivelled around to see if anyone was going to ask anything, to which Seokmin playfully swatted him for. 

It was Wonwoo who raised his hand, voice skeptic and eyes unreadable. “Who were those people that kept us for so long?” 

Seungkwan shuddered and closed his eyes, willing unwelcome memories to fade away, hoping that they wouldn’t influence his mood. 

The three standing exchanged apprehensive glances, before it was apparently decided that Namjoon would answer. “We don’t have access to that information,” 

There were some vulgar exclamations from Seungcheol and Jihoon alike, who both failed to hide their frustration. Seungkwan tentatively requested for Jihoon to be a little quieter the next time he cursed.

Namjoon shifted in discomfort. “We don’t really have authority here. We still have devices in our wrists like you do, and information is still held from us. We’ve just been here longer-- we’ve adjusted.” 

Amber nodded and gestured for the megaphone, to which Namjoon complied.   
“The majority of us here are already actively participating in missions. People die, and people are injured. The reality is that you have to be prepared, or you face the consequences. We’re here to help you.” 

Jihoon had to stand in order to be visible above all of the taller figures. Seokmin’s giggles were silenced when Joshua elbowed him, though he too was hiding his smile.

“What about our families?” 

There were a few beats of heavy, tense silence. A few people coughed.

Amber passed the megaphone back to Namjoon, while Junmyeon tapped his foot nervously, eyes averted. It seemed as though they had selected someone to answer the harder questions they received. 

“...Again, we don’t have access to that information. For any of us,” His gaze lingered towards the back, where it seemed the older participants made themselves comfortable.  
Seungkwan thought of his mother and sisters and frowned. 

They probably thought he was dead. 

There were a few more questions that were answered, as well as a few more bitter remarks coming from Jihoon’s grumpy figure.

Seungkwan couldn’t seem to muster an appetite. All he managed to catch was something about being well rested, because ‘a new dawn brings new challenges’. 

He dumped his foam tray that was now littered with small holes (stabbing foam trays with a fork was completely normal, okay) and headed back towards his room. 

He heard a few noises of protest coming from those on his team, but Seungkwan couldn’t seem to find the energy to stay and chat. He longed for pillows and blankets, dreams, pretending he was a free human being that wasn’t slowly dying inside--

The door to his room was stuck, and he found that it wasn’t budging when he tried to pull it open. Seungkwan huffed in annoyance and began pulling and tugging, to no avail.

He heard something stirring from within the room itself. Seungkwan flinched in surprise when the door was pulled in the opposite direction, only to reveal Hansol standing with a look of confusion settled on his features.

Seungkwan’s hand was still firmly latched around the door knob, and he couldn’t help but look up at Hansol, his own face mirroring the same befuddlement.

Hansol seemed to grasp the situation, and he began laughing. Flustered, Seungkwan retracted his hand from the metal knob and felt a rush of embarrassment fog his senses. 

“The door opens inwards, not outwards.” Hansol didn’t bother to hide his blatant amusement, and Seungkwan fought the urge to hit someone who was undoubtedly stronger than he was.  
Seungkwan mustered a small “I know that now,” before gently pushing by Hansol and plopping onto his mattress. Face buried in his pillow, he sighed.  
“Why are you back so early, anyway?” 

Despite the fact that Seungkwan’s face was currently buried in his pillow, he imagined that Hansol was shrugging. “I dunno. I got bummed when they started talking about how even they don’t really know things. I wanted to be alone, I guess.” 

Seungkwan lifted his face and smiled bashfully. “Oh. Sorry,” 

Hansol reassured him that it was fine, that his presence wasn’t bothersome at all. Seungkwan appreciated it, but felt as though he was being lied to. 

“And what about you?” Hansol gestured to Seungkwan, who was now sitting with his knees tucked under him. 

Seungkwan thought for a moment, attempting to convey his thoughts into words correctly. “I thought about my family. I had this hope when I first signed the contract that maybe--” 

Seungkwan cut himself off, the fear of becoming emotional preventing his thoughts from being voiced. From the way Hansol looked at him, though, he felt as though he understood where Seungkwan was coming from. 

“No, I get it. That’s the only reason I even signed,” Hansol ran his hands through his hair and sighed. 

Silence settled between them. Seungkwan usually wasn’t a fan of the quiet, it unsettled him and made him think far too much. But he supposed it was generally hard to think when he and Hansol kept glancing at one another and making all too awkward eye contact.

Seungkwan felt the desperate need for an ice breaker. Anything to disrupt the discomfort blatantly surrounding them both.

“So, um, what’s your favorite color?” 

Great start.

 

Mingyu had repeatedly apologised, and even organised Jeonghan’s things per his request, but it seemed the man was stubbornly devoted to hating him. 

Joshua had forgiven him already, even if he continued to be slightly wary around him. Chan lightened the atmosphere, and Jeonghan seemed to have taken a liking to the younger. That was all fine, until Chan deserted Mingyu while Jeonghan was threatening to secretly put a seed in his food and have some sort plant grow out of his stomach.

It sent a chill down Mingyu’s spine every time, because he truly didn’t doubt that Jeonghan would do it.   
He totally would.

Mingyu felt trapped between Joshua’s gentle smile and Jeonghan’s piercing glare-- it was terrifying. 

There was also the fact that Mingyu kept finding himself wondering if he was watching a married couple or something. Joshua had a blanket draped around both of their forms. Not only that, but they were whispering into each other’s ear and then breaking out into giggles.  
Giggles, of all things. Like they were school girls braiding each other’s hair--

Oh my god. 

Joshua was, in fact, actually braiding Jeonghan’s hair now. 

Mingyu fought the urge to gag. It was strangely adorable, and he honestly wanted the best for Joshua (especially after he accidentally lost control and stabbed him). Feelings were so utterly confusing. 

He had never socialized with anyone before. It was all so incredibly new to him and overwhelming-- and then there was Joshua, selflessly taking wounds that were meant for other people.

Mingyu chewed his lip in frustration. He couldn’t understand it-- he was envious of how easily Joshua allowed himself to be injured, and how he showed no signs of regret nor blame towards Chan at all.

Mingyu lost control. He was jealous because he knew that somewhere deep in his core he would never be able to care enough about anyone to do something like that, and to a practical stranger no less.

Mingyu was confused. 

Humans were weird. Joshua was weird.

He turned his back away from the disgusting show of affection and closed his eyes, willing for sleep to take him as far away from this horrible sight as possible.

 

Jeonghan was warm and giddy, his knee resting comfortably next to Joshua’s. Their limbs were mildly tangled, and Jeonghan found that out of all the people he recalled meeting, Joshua was by far the most endearing.

Mingyu and Chan’s light breathing could be heard from their bunks only a few short feet away. He should listen to his mind that told him to climb into his own bed and fall asleep-- but after learning that Joshua was getting another flash of pain in his stomach, sleeping wasn’t a possibility. 

“You’ve changed the bandages today, right?” Jeonghan looked towards his stomach in concern. 

Joshua nodded. “Yeah, Yongsun helped me with that earlier.”

Jeonghan was thankful for having such an experienced healer that was helping Joshua recover. He was truly, truly was.

But he also wanted to be the one who changed Joshua’s bandages, for some godforsaken reason. 

Jeonghan wasn’t quite positive on why he had warmed up to Joshua so quickly. It was something about those eyes, that soft voice. They were just easily compatible-- and there’s certainly nothing wrong with finding a friend attractive.

A small wheeze escaped Joshua’s lips, and Jeonghan frowned. “Hey, are you alright? I can find Yongsun, or even Seungkwan--” 

Joshua shook his head, and instead nuzzled lightly into Jeonghan’s shoulder. Joshua’s breath puffed out across his neck, and his bangs tickled Jeonghan’s skin.

He could feel fire licking at his insides, and Jeonghan had to keep himself from hiding his face.

“You’re on too many meds,” He blithely flicked Joshua’s forehead.

“I bet you won’t even remember this in the morning,”

Joshua whined a bit at that. 

Jeonghan stifled a laugh in order to let Chan rest. If Mingyu was the only one present, he would have been awake two hours ago.

“Joshua, do you even know how many pills you’ve taken today?”

His question was met with silence.

Jeonghan laughed into the blanket, causing Joshua to smack his arm lightheartedly.

Jeonghan helped Joshua lay down, despite the other’s protests. He wished him a goodnight and was grateful for the lack of lighting, and how Joshua had yet to comment on how flushed Jeonghan’s face became when they were together.

Jeonghan was laying in his own bed, hand gripping his shirt and feeling his heart that was beating out of his chest. His fingers traced his shoulder blades, where he could still feel Joshua’s silky hair. 

It wasn’t until he finally heard Joshua’s breathing become soft that he finally allowed himself to succumb to slumber.

 

Seungcheol could hear the muffled grumbles of those around him, and although he too was neglecting the inevitable that was getting dressed, he decided that he wanted to set a good example. 

Seungcheol quite nearly bumped his head on the textured ceiling as he hauled his sleepy limbs upwards, eyes bleary with sleep. There was a commotion in the halls that seemed to have woken up Junhui, who was currently heading towards the communal bathroom. Seokmin was ruffling his own hair which was splayed in every which direction. 

Hansol jostled Seungkwan awake, who was whining in weak protest. When he finally sat upwards, he glared at the person who had taken it upon themselves to wake him. 

Seungcheol blankly recalled the warning that they had received while dining the night before.   
“Uniforms, teams, outside-- 7:00 a.m.” 

He gathered enough strength to slide the closet door open, which revealed the same beige and white outfits that had been on them the previous day. Seungkwan flanked his left, and grabbed basic hygiene necessities from a drawer underneath the pearl colored shirts. 

Seungcheol copied him, and turned to go into the communal bathroom. 

Steam hit his face instantly, causing Seungcheol to squint his eyes and blink. There was more than one presence occupying the showers, it seemed. Aside from that, there were several figures hunched over the sinks.  
Seungcheol took his place next to Mingyu, who smiled at him drowsily. 

“How’s the roommate situation going?” Seungcheol splashed cold water on his face and patted his cheeks. 

Mingyu was brushing his teeth, though that didn’t stop him from answering.   
“Isth fine, athide frowm Jeonghawn.” 

Seungcheol watched as Mingyu wiped the toothpaste that dribbled from his chin in mild embarrassment. Meanwhile, Seungcheol himself wiped the spit off of his face that Mingyu had accidentally graced him with.

There was a shrill shriek that sounded from the shower stalls. Seungkwan was sputtering rushed apologies. 

“I didn’t--I didn’t know there was anyone--why were you invisible in the shower? Oh my god--” 

Wonwoo poked his head out from behind the shower curtain. “How was I supposed to know some pervert would open the curtain and bump into me?”

“I’m not a pervert!”

There were a few beats of laughter and Seungkwan fumbling around before everyone resumed their previous activity. 

Eventually, Seungcheol stepped out into the hallway and started towards the end of the hall. Hansol caught up to him, mentioning something about how Mingyu was waiting on Wonwoo before coming.

Less than half of them were ready to actually go outside. Seokmin and Joshua were looking at each other exasperation. “Wait, you mean Jihoon just now got up?” 

Seokmin sighed into his hands. “I just saw him in the hall,” 

Meanwhile, Chan and Soonyoung seemed to have just woken up and haphazardly put their clothes on. Seungcheol didn’t have the heart to tell Chan that his shirt was on backwards.  
If Junhui or Soonyoung noticed, they too neglected to say anything.

Wonwoo and Mingyu finally met them with victorious smiles. “We’re the first ones who get to out,”  
Mingyu had his fists balled in excitement. 

Among the other groups, there wasn’t anyone who knew that Mingyu was born in the facility. He had told a few stories of short lived escapes and how it felt to feel the wind and sun on his skin-- though the punishments that followed afterward were extreme enough to keep him from attempting too often.

Seungcheol couldn’t help but a feel a pang of pity for him. 

Mingyu had so much capability, but lacked the experience with others. He was detached from his emotions, and didn’t have a lot of cognitive thinking practice.   
No wonder he ended up stabbing someone--it was a competition, and all he knew was what it meant to win.

Seungcheol swallowed his own thoughts and held the door open for his team to follow through, hoping that their future challenge wouldn’t bring anything too troubling.

 

Junhui was more skeptical of their activity than he wanted to let on. Not only that, but Soonyoung’s entire village couldn’t seem to stop pestering him.   
Junhui wasn’t like Joshua--Joshua knew things instinctively, he could pry without meaning to, influence others depending on his own emotions.

Junhui was told things-- by people who had died. It was more so a memory, or a reflection of who they were, specifically, but he supposed the technicalities were rather irrelevant. 

He had visions, too. But they came in senses, such as scents and sounds rather than opposed to actually seeing things.   
He knew that Chan’s grandmother was somehow associated with lavender. How, exactly, he wasn’t sure. But it was the little things that made understanding people so much easier. 

The moment when he and Soonyoung had met each other’s eyes, smoke filled Junhui’s lungs and his eyes become irritable. He hadn’t been able to keep himself from coughing, from hearing the screams of those who were burned by Soonyoung’s flames.

Communicating with spirits was a strange occurrence. You shared memories that you hadn’t lived to see-- you knew of what caused their own respective traumas.

And Soonyoung had much of it. Junhui found it hard to concentrate when there was so much surrounding him-- it became overwhelming.  
Names and faces kept popping into his mind, names and faces Junhui didn’t want to see or know. 

Junhui evened his breathing. Focus, he needed to focus.   
All of the teams now had their members present, and were looking around in mild interest.

After about ten minutes or so, when it was exactly 7:00 a.m., Namjoon made his presence known.

The door leading into the facility was swung open theatrically, revealing a smiling face.

It was disarming, to say the least. Namjoon’s bright smile didn’t prepare any of them for their next task.

He waved to them, and praised their timeliness.

That was when his face fell, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“You must all be wondering what you’re doing,” 

He walked around them in circles, namely Jihoon, who had been the last to arrive.

Namjoon pointed with his index finger suddenly, to the point of a mountaintop that sat on the horizon. 

“You’re competing to see who can get to that top of that mountain first,” Namjoon turned to face them, eyebrows raised, curious of their reactions.  
There were a few nervous chuckles, and even a ‘funny joke’ from Minghao.

Namjoon smirked. “I’m dead serious. Keep in mind that you can’t run away-- you have trackers in your wrists.”

As he continued listing rules, Junhui began to fill with dread, exhaustion already settling heavily on his shoulders.

“All teammates have to be present at the top to be counted as first. Sabotaging and using your abilities is allowed-- but no purposeful serious injuries,” His eyes fell onto Mingyu, who shuffled his feet with downcast eyes.

Namjoon continued, his gaze firm. “You get a flare gun for absolute emergencies, as well as a bag of basic survival supplies. Oh, and there will be a few minor obstacles as well.”

There was an amused glint in Namjoon’s eyes that Junhui found utterly terrifying. 

“We have an injured member on our team,” Jeonghan spoke up, seemingly irked. Joshua stood next to him, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.  
Namjoon glanced over in their direction and nodded. “I spoke with Yongsun about his condition-- he’s well enough to participate.” 

If Jeonghan had any further comments, he was prevented from saying them from the way Joshua squeezed his arm in reassurance. 

Namjoon continued, eyes studying them with interest. “There will be three different starting points. You’ll be sent off by either Amber, Junmyeon, or myself.”   
At the mention of their names, Amber and Junmyeon came forward from where they were lingering undetected by the doorway. 

Namjoon tapped Junhui on the shoulder lightly, gesturing for him to follow. Junhui obliged, the rest of team not far behind. Namjoon had a large backpack on his back, which he handed nonchalantly to Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung frowned, but bit his lip to refrain from complaining. 

He led them around the front of the facility, eyes squinting in effort. He let out a sigh of relief once he came upon a stick with duct tape on the end sticking out from the ground. 

Namjoon came to halt, and turned to address them all. “This is where you start.” He pointed once more to the looming mountain overhead. 

“Think wisely, and good luck.” 

Soonyoung smirked, eyes blazing. He confidently strode forward.

Junhui looked towards Chan and Minghao, who simply shrugged and continued after him.

Junhui chewed the inside of his cheek-- this wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

 

Wonwoo couldn’t say that he was particularly fond of this exercise, mainly because he could hear his teammates complaining already. Seungcheol was adamantly insisting on saving what little packaged granola bars they had that lay at the bottom of the backpack, which was wrapped around his shoulders. Meanwhile Hansol disagreed by saying things like ‘No, no, you’re supposed to eat what you have to build energy’-- this conversation had been continuous for the past thirty minutes or so. 

Wonwoo wasn’t quite sure how much more of it he could take.

The backpack also contained a map, a pocket watch, the flare gun, a manual on poison berries and what to do when poisoned (fantastic), and finally-- four bars of soap. Wonwoo silently thanked whatever God had provided them each with their own sense of cleanliness. 

Aside from that and their reluctant wandering, the past hour had been relatively uneventful. There was a skirmish that could be heard in the distance, something Wonwoo was grateful to be avoiding. There was yet to be any sign of the so called obstacles that had been referenced, which was both relieving and utterly terrifying. 

Mingyu was staring around at the scenery in quiet befoundment. Wonwoo decided to let him be, this was something that Mingyu lacked the experience of.   
Wonwoo did wish that he would pay more attention and stop walking into trees, though. 

The sounds of a fight were either drawing closer or becoming louder, neither of which were a necessarily good sign. 

“Hey, let’s just lay low awhile.” Seungcheol dropped the bap and stretched his arms upwards, before settling for leaning against a rotting, moss covered log lazily. 

“Wait for the noise to die down before we keep going.” 

Mingyu seemed to like that idea, and happily joined him. Wonwoo felt as though they would be an easy target, but he supposed that attempting to wait out the commotion wouldn’t be such a bad idea. 

Hansol didn’t seem to mind what they did, exactly, as long as it was helpful in some way. Wonwoo found his flexibility admirable. 

Mingyu began flipping through the berry book, and comparing it to nearby bushes. His nose kept scrunching in confusion. 

Wonwoo leaned over his shoulder bemusedly. “What’s wrong?” 

Mingyu glared down at the pages reproachfully, his voice lowered and sulky. “I...I’m not that good at reading. I hate this,” 

Hansol glanced up curiously. “You can talk though. Did they never teach you to read?” 

Mingyu shuffled on his feet uncomfortably, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “The scientists taught me how to talk, so I could tell them what their experiments were doing to me physically. And they taught me the alphabet for a little while, before they gave up altogether and the tests got worse.” 

Mingyu ran stressed fingers through his hair. “When I would escape, even for a little while--I learned new words,” 

He grinned. “Like fuck.” 

Seungcheol smirked. “Enlightening.” 

Wonwoo observed the page in silence. It was true that it was simple reading-- what troubled Mingyu was probably the names of the berries themselves, and not the adjectives that described them. He tentatively pointed to the pages, and enunciated the more complicated words. 

The corners of Wonwoo’s lips were upturned. “Don’t worry about the ones you don’t know yet. We’ll work on those later,” 

Mingyu nodded in concentration, absorbing Wonwoo’s words wholeheartedly. He was surprisingly earnest in everything he did, it was as amusing as it was endearing. 

Hansol made minuscule snowflakes fall from his palm, eyes flickering between the treelines in search for any sort of disturbance. 

Suddenly, Mingyu bolted upright in shock.

Everyone tensed, and Seungcheol instinctively clutched their bag of resources. “Did you see something?” 

Mingyu nodded, eyes wide with terror. “It’s behind that tree!”

Hansol now stood rigid on his feet, while Wonwoo readied himself for some sort of presence to make themselves known.

Instead, there was the soft crunch of leaves as a squirrel peered at them curiously.

Mingyu took a few steps backwards, slack jawed. “Oh my god,” He breathed.

There were a few confused glances that were exchanged, before Seungcheol started laughing. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a squirrel before?” His voice filled the unnerved air and demolished it completely.

Mingyu gaped. “It’s so weird looking--why does it have hair everywhere? That shit’s gross,” 

Hansol joined Seungcheol in his teasing, while Wonwoo sighed into the palm of his hand, because of course that of all things was what Mingyu would be afraid of.

Mingyu couldn’t seem to keep his wavering pupils away from the small mammal a few feet away. It was currently munching on a walnut, beady eyes locked on the gangly man who was near trembling. 

Wonwoo jabbed him below his ribcage. “You made us worry for nothing,” 

Mingyu blinked. “Nothing? That thing is terrifying,” He shuddered. 

A wicked grin spread quickly across Seungcheol’s features. “They’re not that scary when you see them up close.” 

Mingyu whipped around, eyes glinting. “You wouldn’t,” 

Seungcheol met his gaze evenly. “You underestimate me, Mingyu. I would.” 

And that was how Seungcheol started chasing a squirrel. 

The thought of being separated sent a jolt of alarm through Wonwoo’s system, and he found himself jogging to catch up with Seungcheol, who had apparently abandoned his plan of going unnoticed. 

Hansol seemed to have similar ideas, or maybe he just enjoyed Mingyu’s suffering, because he froze their wrists together and dragged Mingyu along while he yelped in pain. 

Wonwoo could faintly hear the crunching of leaves below his feet, but that wasn’t what unsettled him so. 

The background hum of bird chirps had settled into eerie silence. The slight patter of woodland creatures was no more. 

Then it was the slight rustle of a branch, the faintest pant, that caused Wonwoo to call out to Seungcheol to wait. 

Seungcheol halted, laughter still bubbling from his throat. Hansol had relinquished his icy grasp on Mingyu’s wrist, who was rubbing the tender area while glaring at him.

Mingyu was still smiling, though.

Hansol quirked an eyebrow at Wonwoo. “Something wrong?” 

His pulse was pounding in his ears. He opened his mouth to speak, before someone beat him to it. 

“I almost had it,” Seungcheol was still scanning the ground around them for their newfound furry companion. 

Mingyu punched him lightly. “That stupid--what was it, squirrel? I hate it-- and I hate you, too.” 

Something scraped against the tree above them. A few stray leaves dispersed from a sudden movement. 

Wonwoo swallowed. 

“Mingyu doesn’t appreciate the beauty of nature? Color me shocked,” 

Wonwoo jerked his head upwards, dread settling in his stomach and making his head spin. 

Jeonghan stared down at them, eyes gleaming. He sat nonchalantly on the branch of an oak tree, and eyed them as though they were prey. 

A branch came down upon them suddenly, knocking Mingyu aside roughly. 

“We heard you coming from a mile away,” Jeonghan smirked, his tone flowing with confidence. 

Seokmin came bounding towards them, showering them with punches that were nearly impossible to dodge. 

Seungcheol grunted with effort as he heaved the tree upwards from the ground and tossed it aside. 

A neighboring tree’s limb caught Jeonghan by his shirt, who was now dangling loosely. 

Mingyu’s eyes were covered by thick bark and dirtied tree roots. He struggled to pry the wood off of his face.   
Hansol sent a chunk of ice through the air towards Jeonghan, who was preoccupied with trying to ensnare Seungcheol. 

It knocked him from the tree’s grasp, and he fell to the ground limply. 

Wonwoo rendered himself unseen, supposing that he might as well attempt to give them the upperhand. He focused, willing some of the fallen branches into the air. 

That was when he realized. 

The backpack. Seungcheol had dropped it when the fight first began. 

Wonwoo whipped around suddenly, and nearly cursed aloud when he saw that only the backpack’s dirt impression remained. 

Someone kicked him from behind, Wonwoo stumbled slightly. 

Jihoon smirked. “Next time you want to go unnoticed, try not to make your levitation so damn obvious.” 

Seungcheol pinned him to the ground. Hansol froze the limb that confined Mingyu, allowing it to be broken into glittering shards. 

Seokmin whirled by them, Seungkwan on his back and laughing. The sack containing all of their bare needs was wrapped around him. 

Wonwoo stood, eyes falling onto the spot where Jeonghan was laying, supposedly unconscious.   
There was no one there. 

Wonwoo felt anger course through him. Of course. Of course he would pretend to be knocked out. 

There was a sudden thump, and Mingyu smiled down at the now petrified Seungkwan.

A moment’s eye contact made you a goner. 

Seungcheol hoisted him over his shoulder. They were all covered in splotches of dirt and bruises that would surely turn purple in a few hours. 

“Okay, fun’s over. We have your teammate, you have our bag.” Seungcheol changed the direction he was speaking to many times, probably because the other team was nowhere in sight. 

“They...left him?” Hansol seemed dumbfounded.

Wonwoo shrugged, while Mingyu dusted himself off. “Maybe one of them was injured and they retreated,” 

A few awkward moments passed. 

“You know, we should have eaten those granola bars earlier.” 

Seungcheol groaned. 

 

It was nearing the end of the first day, the sky was being painted in various oranges and shades of pink. Jihoon said that keeping camp in the trees and staying on upper ground would be best.  
Joshua sighed. Seokmin and Jihoon shared a tent on another branch adjacent to theirs. They had been worried about the possibility of falling--but Jeonghan altered the tree limbs, making it far sturdier than before.

Jeonghan bumped his shoulder against Joshua as he sat down next to him. His lips were stained pink from eating berries.

“I feel bad.” Joshua tried to avoid looking at the bright, setting sun. 

Jeonghan chuckled. “Planting someone to purposely mess things up for them is genius,” 

Jeonghan scooted closer, their hands brushing faintly. Joshua laid his head gently on Jeonghan’s shoulder, a habit that seemed to have formed suddenly.

“I know that. Jihoon is amazing at coming up with plans, but I still worry.” Joshua closed his eyes.

Jeonghan shifted so that they were both angled backwards a bit more. “Without you hearing their thoughts, we wouldn’t have been able to come up with anything like this.” 

Joshua smiled despite himself. “I couldn’t help with any of the fighting,” 

Jeonghan snorted. “Don’t be so humble. There wouldn’t have been any fighting without you,” 

Joshua hummed. 

They enjoyed each other in silence, until Jeonghan cut through it with a question that caught Joshua off guard. 

“How did they find you?”

Joshua didn’t have to ask him to clarify. He was asking about the workers of the malevolent facility, people with no souls. No remorse.

He turned his head to meet Jeonghan’s gaze. Their faces were closer than he anticipated. 

It was a comfort, to have Jeonghan around. To feel him trace circles on his back when he was stressed, or to feel his breath fan out across his skin when he whispered jokes to him that only Joshua would find funny.

Neither of them had the luxury of friends or skinship for a long, painful time. Maybe that was why they bonded so quickly, why they kept prying into one another for more.

Deep down, they were both still terrified that it wouldn’t last. 

Joshua inhaled. The intensity from Jeonghan’s eyes was nearly too much for him. 

“I had visions of everyone,” His eyes flickered briefly to Jeonghan’s lips.

Jeonghan nodded for him to continue. 

“I knew it would be hard. I knew that I could change my future if I wanted,” Jeonghan’s nimble fingers caressed his.

Joshua’s whispers became shaky and uneven. “But I kept seeing them, and I decided that it was a future I wanted.” 

Jeonghan’s other hand tangled itself in Joshua’s hair, threading through it lightly. Joshua tried to swallow his thumping heartbeat, the fluttery sense of anxiety that was nearly sending him into overdrive. 

“Who all did you see?” Jeonghan’s voice was lilted and higher than usual, his face flushed prettily. 

Joshua hesitated before answering. “I could only ever really remember one person, and how they made me feel. It was like a memory,” 

Jeonghan’s fingers cupped his face gently, causing chills to break out across his skin.

“Joshua,” Jeonghan’s eyes met his in a way that felt far too intimate. “Is it possible for an empath’s feelings to affect others?”

Joshua struggled to hold his gaze. “It works both ways, usually,” he murmured softly. 

“Some people just naturally click. Feelings are stronger, and bonds are easier,” There was a faint tremor in Joshua’s voice.

“Feelings are heavier for an empath, so they can influence others. But since empaths can feel what other’s are feeling, it’s almost like both people feed into it,” 

Jeonghan traced his jaw lightly. Joshua shuddered. 

Jeonghan leaned forward, his shirt slipping to reveal part of his collarbone. “You must be an amazing empath, Joshua. Because I can’t stop feeling around you,” 

Their lips brushed, sending warm jolts throughout Joshua’s body.   
“Are you scared?” 

Jeonghan tenderly guided his hand and pressed it into his chest. Joshua could feel his heartbeat pounding against his chest. “I am too,” His laugh made Joshua melt a bit.

Joshua pressed into him slightly. “Jeonghan,” 

Jeonghan kissed him softly, before pulling back. Joshua felt drunk on his own giddiness, Jeonghan’s scent the only thing he could register other than the slight shake in his lower lip.

“I’m still scared that this won’t last forever,” Joshua outlined the area from Jeonghan’s ear to his collarbones, and he sighed into the touch. 

Joshua nodded. “I know,”

Jeonghan leaned back, panting. “If we get too close, and then something happens…” 

Joshua caressed his face faintly. “I know. I’m scared too.” 

Jeonghan pulled him closer. “I want to wait. I want to make sure this lasts,” 

A feathery kiss was planted on the corner of Joshua’s lips. 

“But I needed to get this out of my system,” Jeonghan murmured into Joshua’s neck, lips velvety and oh so welcome.

Joshua understood. Cradling urges like these would only cause them to grow stronger.   
But they didn’t belong to one another-- they couldn’t. After years of imprisonment, it was impossible to not fear losing everything once again. 

Even so, that fear didn’t keep them from being snagged in each other’s limbs that night, as Joshua fell asleep in Jeonghan’s arms.

Jeonghan waited for his breathing to even, and for Joshua to cease his occasional stirs, before he allowed himself to drift into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY okay I know that I'm Jihan trash but other ships will get their moments too I promise ;-; I couldn't stop myself. As always, criticism/feedback is very welcomed :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Explicit Violence**
> 
> Junhui felt something sink to the pit of his stomach-- it was heavy and it made it difficult to breathe. 
> 
> They weren’t alone anymore.

The forest was dense and sweat rolled down Chan’s back uncomfortably. The shrubs and greenery occasionally scratched his exposed legs, thorn bushes poking his side and grassy terrain making it difficult to survey their surroundings.

Every few minutes or so, Junhui and Minghao would vanish and scope the territory--scouting for signs of any other groups or possible hindrances. During those times, Chan sat in awkward silence with Soonyoung, silently praying that no ambush attack would commence while two of their members were away.

It had been a few measly hours since their departure from the facility, and Chan was already miserable. His stomach growled, even though they had eaten their packed snacks not long ago. Soonyoung attempted not to show it, but he too was already tiring. 

Soonyoung played with fire in the palm on his hand, flames dancing around his fingertips. Chan watched, fascinated. “That’s so cool! I wish I could that with rain or something,”

Soonyoung nodded, a smile pulling at his lips. “You don’t create though, you strengthen what’s already in the atmosphere.” 

Chan looked away, trying in vain to mask his glum. “It’s just not as flashy,” 

Soonyoung regarded him with a teasing grin. “You can control lightning when the time’s right--that’s pretty flashy, yeah?” 

“Chan shoved him roughly, whining a bit before giving in and joining Soonyoung in his laughter. “Ah, really? You’re awful,” 

Junhui appeared suddenly, hands pushing leaves out of his path. “You both laugh so loud. What are you, vultures?”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I’m the best looking vulture someone like you has ever seen,” 

His comment was met with a pinch on his forearm--Soonyoung hissed in pain.  
Junhui plopped down on a jagged rock, eyes narrowed and face resting on his hand. Chan thought that the position looked particularly stilted, what with the rock’s textured surface-- but neglected to say as much.

Chan motioned for Soonyoung to pass him the now dirtied resource bag, to which the latter complied. Chan felt around inside of it lazily, before finding the chaptered berry book he had been searching for. He placed it in his lap and began scanning the pages.

Soonyoung quirked a brow. Chan simply responded, “We’re still waiting on Minghao, right? Might as well be productive.”

Minghao had yet to return from his own voyage, and seeing as he was practically invisible-- (he didn’t like that term very much) it wasn’t as if they could go searching for him. 

Minutes ticked by, and Chan could feel restlessness radiating off of the group. “One of us should at least try and find him,”

Soonyoung shook his head, brows furrowed and head tilted. “And what if that person gets lost? It’s too risky-- we should have faith that Minghao knows what he’s doing.”

Junhui was chewing the inside of his cheek anxiously, leg bouncing and impatient. “Let’s move as a group, then. Minghao was only supposed to go to that oak tree we passed and back, remember? There’s no reason for him to be taking so long. The longer we wait, the more of a risk it is.”

Soonyoung sighed in submission, begrudgingly slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Fine. But we need to hurry, retracing our steps only gives the other groups more time to get ahead.” 

Chan snorted. “And waiting doesn’t?” 

Soonyoung didn’t seem to have a reply to that.

They continued cautiously, eyes wide and attentive, listening for any sound, any disturbance.  
Chan was the first to see it. A large, looming bubble the color of a dark night sky. It appeared just over the tree line. 

“There! That has to be Minghao,” Chan pointed just above the tree’s upper reaches. 

As they neared, Soonyoung was muttering something about a fight--how Minghao was trying to ambush someone, that’s why there was no noise. Chan doubted that theory a bit, mainly because he could see a figure standing outside of the shadow as they spoke. 

His frame was skinny, skin on the pale side compared to the others. His head immediately whipped in their direction, eyes piercing. He had eye bags that stood out against his skin, hair ruffled and unkempt.

It was as though he could see them, despite the fact that they were kneeling behind a particularly thick trunk. 

He smirked, eyes glinting. Chan found that he didn’t like that very much. 

Half of the black dome dissipated, and another man stood confidently. His gaze was sharp, hair well kept and parted neatly. 

Junhui blinked in confusion. “That guy--does he have the same gift that Minghao does? Half of the bubble disappeared,” 

Soonyoung was rigid on Chan’s left, muscles stiff and ready to fight. “That’s the least of our worries. They know we’re here,” 

Chan nodded. Both men were casting bemused glances in their direction, waiting patiently, relaxed. It was irking.

Soonyoung inhaled deeply. “Okay. They’re waiting on us. We need to surprise them-- Chan, is lightning a possibility?” 

Chan gazed at the sky thoughtfully. There were a few grey clouds drifting about. “Give me a few minutes,” 

That seemed good enough for Soonyoung. Without warning, he charged headfirst towards the two men.   
Junhui gaped, and scrambled after him, despite the fact that Junhui had no means of offensive attacks other than invisibility. Chan was focusing on making the clouds gather over their location, and remained hidden--the lightning would be their main attack. He couldn’t risk trying to attack and maintaining their plan. 

At least, Chan hoped that was their plan. They hadn’t really discussed it, no thanks to Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung sent a simmering flash of heat towards the two confident figures, palms outstretched. 

The paler one dodged the heat too easily, even as it twisted and changed directions. The second man didn’t have as much luck, and his arm was burned. 

Much to Chan’s surprise, he smiled a bit, before sending a blast of fire towards Soonyoung himself. Soonyoung was sent reeling backwards in surprise and from force alone, and hit a stump roughly, seeming a bit disoriented. 

Chan couldn’t attempt to mask his shock. This man-- he not only shared Minghao’s power, but Soonyoung’s as well? 

He recalled Namjoon’s words on ‘minor obstacles’ and scowled. They had planted people with far more skill and experience compared to themselves to challenge them, and that just didn’t seem very fair. 

Soonyoung couldn’t be burned, and recovered from the blow quickly. His eyes fell upon the man’s arm, which was now a blistered mess.

“You bastard,” Soonyoung spat towards the ground, a sneer evident on his face. “You can copy other people’s gifts.” 

The man simply grinned in reply. He tore part of his sleeve with his teeth and bandaged his arm. “What can I say? Guilty as charged,” 

Soonyoung came speeding towards him, and kicked out his leg in attempt of a roundhouse. 

The man moved out of his way, and kicked him to the ground. “Don’t blindly attack your opponents,”   
Chan had a feeling he was referencing Soonyoung’s reckless and poorly orchestrated surprise attack. 

The first man had yet to attack, and was simply watching the fight unfold. Chan had lost sight of Junhui, and was hoping he could manage to take him out. 

That brief hope was gone once the man turned and punched something in the air behind him. 

Junhui let out a groan, and Chan heard a thump. 

The man’s eyes were cold and strict. “Being reckless was your first mistake. Your second was trying to fight without knowing what you’re up against,” 

Chan swallowed. He had known that Junhui was behind him-- the question now was how. 

Minghao’s dome was expanding. He was attempting to give them all cover so they could properly fight. 

Soonyoung must have risen the temperature of his skin, because the man jerked his hand away and hissed in pain, releasing his hold. 

He was engulfed by the dark cloud and giggled. “Are we doing this again?” 

Chan closed his eyes. He could feel the swirling clouds overhead, his energy saved and ready to be used. 

When his eyes flickered open, he was met with the thoughtful stare of a pale figure.   
“Jimin,” The words fell from his chapped lips easily.

Jimin backed out of the darkened mist, only to be met with Soonyoung yet again. He let out a noise of effort, and flames nearly engulfed Jimin, causing him to be forced backwards into Minghao’s obscurity. 

The first man cursed, and eyed Chan warily. 

Lightning hit the ground. The sound was deafening, causing even Chan himself to wince and close his eyes.   
But it was absolutely riveting. It was though Chan could feel the energy flowing through his veins and out from his fingertips as he aimed. 

It was followed by a short rainfall, which must look peculiar to any outsider. 

It seemed that the scuffle had come to an end. Minghao made himself seen, covered his bruised and clothes tattered. He fell in step next to Soonyoung, who was surrounded by steam due to the temperature difference between the cool rain and his own flesh. 

Junhui came over and tugged on Chan’s arm, leading him to where the others were headed. 

The two men stood next to one another, eyes gleaming. Jimin elbowed his companion, a notion that Chan assumed was coaxing him to speak. 

“Min Yoongi--telepathy and mind reading. You made a lot of brash decisions that could cost you your lives on a mission,” The man spoke as though he were reciting a grading manual. 

Jimin placed a hand on his hip lazily. “Park Jimin. I can replicate other’s gifts, but only when I’m physically affected by them. You all have strong gifts, work on making them stronger. For those of you without offensive abilities, you need to harness your natural strength.” His eyes lingered on Junhui.

“Mind reading is difficult to control. I was preoccupied with telling Jimin what fire boy was planning, I didn’t even notice you.” Yoongi nodded in approval towards Chan, who met his eyes evenly.

Soonyoung huffed. “Kwon Soonyoung.” He held out his hand. Yoongi hesitated, but shook it firmly. He cursed and yanked his hand away, only to be met with Soonyoung smiling triumphantly at seeing he had been burned. 

Minghao regarded him with mild disapproval. “Don’t be so petty.” 

The introductions that followed were unnatural and bordering a bit on passive aggression. Even so, Chan was grateful for the opportunity to have fought with two people he probably wouldn’t have to see often. The idea of attacking or being attacked by other teams scared Chan more than he would admit to himself.   
As they continued onwards with a new agreement on a partner system, Chan could only hope that they could put off seeing another group for as long as humanly possible.

 

It was later that day, after Seungkwan had been abandoned by his group, that they were trying in vain to set up camp. 

Hansol almost felt bad for him, his overly dramaticized “I’ve been forsaken,” and “Why?” that seemed to fall from his mouth every few seconds. 

Seungcheol had requested for Hansol to freeze his wrists and ankles together to keep him from escaping. Hansol didn’t see the point in that (it’s not like he had anywhere to run to), but agreed anyway. 

Seungkwan shuffled on awkwardly. He was far slower than the rest of his group (what with his restraints) and he also kept tripping over himself, or a twig that he couldn’t step over.

Hansol himself couldn’t be affected by the feeling of ice or anything cold, so Seungkwan decided that Wonwoo was a reasonable victim to push his own feelings onto. 

“Okay, I get it. You’re being held against your will and that really sucks, or whatever. But if I have to keep feeling like my wrists are frozen, I’m going to kill you.” 

Seungkwan huffed. “Why does this group have so many violent brutes?” He sent a small glare towards Mingyu, who was looking up at the sky. 

Wonwoo sighed. “Alright, that’s it.” 

Seungkwan was levitating now, eyes wide, and he let out noises similar to a squawking chicken on some sort of opioid. 

Mingyu pointed and laughed wholeheartedly, while Seungcheol questioned Wonwoo in mild panic. “There aren’t any side effects of levitating a human, right? Right?” 

Wonwoo’s reply was disinterested. “I don’t know, I’ve never done it before.” 

“What! I could grow an extra limb or something!” Seungkwan squeaked. 

Hansol watched on, amused. “You’re a healer, you’ll be fine.” 

Seungkwan let out a strangled promise that he wouldn’t pester Wonwoo any longer, before he was dropped and landed with a dull thud. Seungkwan rolled around in a futile attempt to somehow find balance and hoist himself onto his feet.

Hansol kneeled next to him, amber eyes gleaming. “Need some help?” 

Seungkwan ignored him, and continued rolling around and crunching leaves. He let out noises of struggle, as he attempted to shake the twigs out of his hair.

Hansol watched him fumble around, the corners of lips upturned. “We could just leave you here until someone finds you,” 

Seungkwan momentarily halted his movements and sighed. He was on his back, a look of defeat flickering across his features. 

“Fine.” 

Hansol lightly placed his hands on the small of Seungkwan’s back and heaved him upwards, before tugging on his conjoined wrists and helping him stand. 

Seungkwan looked away. “Thanks--but I would have gotten up eventually,” 

Hansol snorted. “Yeah. Okay,” 

Hansol couldn’t help but think back to when he and Seungkwan had been alone in their dorm together. Seungkwan had been asking questions about Hansol that he didn’t even know the answer to-- things like ‘Where’s your favorite place?’ and ‘Do you have any dreams?’   
For someone who acted as though they were indifferent and prideful, Seungkwan seemed to have a genuine care and interest in other people. 

Hansol considered Seungkwan a comrade, even if their current circumstance wasn’t accommodating to that very much. He could only guess that Seungkwan shared similar feelings, seeing as he still dragged on by Hansol’s side, even if he was the one who put the restraints on him. 

Hansol lowered his voice a bit. “You know, not everyone on this team is a brute.” 

Seungkwan sniffed at that, a teasing smile on his face. “Yeah? I don’t believe that for a second.” 

Hansol pretended as though he were going to reach out and get Wonwoo’s attention, something Seungkwan headbutted him for. 

Hansol looked at him curiously.

Seungkwan’s face reddened. “I can’t hit you, so headbutting was my only option. Leave me alone,”

Hansol hadn’t said anything to garner that reaction, but found himself smiling at the discipline anyway.

They eventually found themselves settled under a large tree with a gaping hole in it. It was musky and full of cobwebs, but it was the best shelter they could come up with. It was hard to see in the damp, hardly lit area. Seungcheol suggested a fire.

Mingyu’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen one of those in person,” 

Wonwoo eyed him fondly, hands rubbing together for warmth. “That’s all the more reason to do it, then.” 

Seungcheol stated that he would gather wood and return shortly. In the meantime, he requested that Seungkwan tell them where his teammates were so they could exchange him for their ‘rightful belongings’. 

Seungkwan sighed in exasperation. “I already told you that they left me! I don’t know where they are or when they plan on rescuing me.” 

Seungkwan blinked. “But I hope it’s soon, because I have to use the bathroom and it would be very difficult to do so while restrained.” 

The ice that confined Seungkwan was melting and dampening his only clothes. Hansol felt a pang of guilt.

Regarding his bold statement, Wonwoo gave Seungkwan a nonchalant nod in acknowledgement. “Hansol, you take him.”

Hansol looked at them both in confusion. “Why me?” 

Mingyu was sharpening a stick against a rock as he replied, “Because ice is your thing. Just unfreeze and then refreeze,”

The stick broke against the stone, having been subjected to too much pressure. Mingyu frowned, displeased. “It’s simple,” 

Hansol led Seungkwan away from the tree, towards a small pond. Instead of taking his bonds away, Hansol sighed. 

“Your teammates didn’t abandon you. They can’t even win without you--so what are you really doing here?” Hansol searched Seungkwan’s gaze. Seungkwan cast his eyes towards the ground. 

“I don’t know what you mean. Now if you’ll excuse me--” 

Hansol interrupted him, tone thoughtful. “You sure were tripping a lot earlier. It seemed to me like you just fell whenever we saw something we could kill and eat, though.” 

Seungkwan batted his eyes innocently. 

Hansol swallowed. “Let’s talk hypotheticals,” 

He leaned in towards Seungkwan, holding his wrists tenderly as the ice melted and poured onto the ground. The ice on his ankles followed. Hansol felt guilty as he noticed the irritated skin that was now exposed. 

As soon as it was there, it was gone. Hansol supposed healing yourself was easier than healing others--especially when it came to purely external wounds.

Hansol watched as Seungkwan rubbed his skin contentedly. “Let’s say that you weren’t actually abandoned by your teammates,”

Hansol leaned against a particularly massive boulder that was covered in moss and leaves. “What would your goal be?”

Seungkwan teetered back and forth on his feet. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” 

Hansol flashed him a grin and shrugged. “It’s just theory-- it doesn’t mean anything.” 

For a reason that Hansol didn’t fully understand, Seungkwan played along. “Well. say that a certain member of my group realized that there was a certain point where we all would intersect-- he figured that there would be something there waiting for us,” 

Seungkwan eyed him coyly. “And what if you planted someone just to be a nuisance? It’s not like you couldn’t find them again later,” 

Hansol arched his brow in mild interest. “What would make him think that?” 

Seungkwan looked rather pleased with himself. “Hypothetically, he didn’t tell me. I’m an awful liar-- but that makes my role the most believable. I’ve been telling the truth,” 

Their entire journey, Seungkwan had remained adamant on not knowing the location of his members. Not only that, but he insisted that he knew not of their honest intentions.   
Even if it wasn’t the complete truth, Hansol supposed that he hadn’t been lying.

Hansol wiped the hair out of his eyes. “So why would someone who’s supposed to mess everything up give himself away?” 

Seungkwan must have spotted something fascinating on the ground, because he stared at it, eyes wavering.

“Maybe he felt bad for being deceitful,” Seungkwan’s reply was muffled and quiet.

“Hypothetically,” Hansol replied.   
Seungkwan smiled at him. “Hypothetically--yeah,” 

 

Jihoon peered at the map in his hand curiously. Seokmin was by his side, studying it intently. Joshua was there as well, attempting to find any other hidden meanings. 

The uniforms for all facility inhabitants were the same as far as color scheme and style. However, those who had graduated from training bore a silver colored triangle that sat over their heart.

Jihoon hadn’t really been thinking when he folded the map into said shape. It was more so out of boredom than anything else. 

When he had been reprimanded by Seungkwan for destruction of resources, he had begrudgingly attempted to return the map to its previous state.

All the folds had created an indention in the center of the map, with three creases leading towards the center. 

Jihoon recognized the spot where they had been instructed to journey forward, and wondered if the lines had any significance. He was convinced as much after they had a run in with a woman who let out ear piercing screams that rendered them all in a state of shock. She went by Irene. 

After the encounter, Jihoon studied the paper once more. He realized that they had wandered off the path from their starting point, which was the crease to the far left. 

Jihoon presented his theory to his teammates with confidence. “It shows where we started-- and if we get sidetracked, there’s an obstacle to keep us on the right path.”

Jeonghan shot him a dubious look. “What would be in the center, though? It’s not our final destination,” 

Jihoon nodded. “They want us to challenge each other, or be challenged by something in the center. Either way, we’ll encounter the other groups at the same time eventually,” 

Even if the others hadn’t been entirely convinced, when the opportunity arose for Seungkwan to infiltrate another group and affect their performance, everyone was suddenly extremely enthusiastic.

So as they neared the center, Jihoon couldn’t help but be filled with a strange anticipation. Seokmin and Joshua had both come to the agreement that there didn’t seem to be any other secrets hidden away, no matter how many shapes they folded it into. Jeonghan thought it was silly, but seemed to be on board with Jihoon’s plan anyhow. 

The forest was an array of bird chirps and the soft scurrying of chipmunks and other small woodland inhabitants. Before his imprisonment, Jihoon hadn’t been very fond of the outdoors-- but now he a had a peculiar appreciation for it.

Though, appreciation and likeness were too very different things. 

The dense forest suddenly opened up to reveal a large meadow covered in flowers and tall grass. There was a few wooden shacks scattered about, and a sign in the very center of the village type place that read: ‘Midway point: wait for further instructions. We are watching’

The message in of itself was a bit unnerving, but Jihoon couldn’t stop the rush of pride that he felt since his idea had been correct.

Joshua and Jeonghan had been a bit distant with one another since the previous night they had shared a tent together. It was strange, since they had certainly gotten along the best out of anyone.

Either way, Jeonghan approached Seokmin and requested that they share one of the shacks together-- it was nearing late afternoon, and the sun was nearly gone over the looming mountains. He seemed a bit surprised at the request, but he agreed.   
Jihoon tried not to focus on the way Joshua’s gaze lingered on their retreating frames. 

Jihoon invited Joshua into another shack. It was nothing extraordinary, just a roof and some dented floors. Joshua helped him pitch the tent.

Even if they now had extra tents, they had agreed not to mess with the other team’s belongings too much. Their job was to annoy them, not ruin any friendly attitudes. 

There was a sudden noise coming from outside. Jihoon groggily stumbled out of the shack, to see Soonyoung and his team standing near the center.

Soonyoung’s palm was alight as Junhui recited what the sign read. 

The moon was overhead now, basking them all in silverlight. Jihoon wondered how time had managed to get away from him.

Junhui nodded towards him, before enthusiastically asking Minghao to room with him. The latter agreed. 

Chan scampered off, saying something about finding the biggest shack with the most room. Soonyoung waved him off. 

The silence was heavy and tense. 

Soonyoung spoke first. “So--have you been trying to follow your own advice?”

Jihoon scowled at him. “Are you going to bring that up every time we meet? Because that’ll only give me another reason to avoid you,”

Soonyoung chuckled and crossed his arms. “What’s the other reason?” 

Jihoon glared at him reproachfully. “You irritate me,”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I get that a lot,” 

Jihoon was was scrunching his calloused hands and staring at the grass that swept across his feet. “You’re annoying your group mates already?”

Soonyoung shifted his weight onto his right foot. “Well-- I used to get that often, I guess.” 

Jihoon didn’t question him any further. Any mention of life before being institutionalized usually invoked a strange, sorrowful kind of silence. 

If Soonyoung wanted to continue their conversation he didn’t show any signs of it. Though it’s not like he would be able to-- Seungcheol’s group had finally arrived, Seungcheol himself was whooping in celebration.

Seungkwan waddled behind the group, wrists together, but legs free. Hansol allowed the ice to melt, and Seungkwan ran to Jihoon, only to be blocked by Wonwoo.

Wonwoo raised a brow. “Our bag,” 

Jihoon scoffed and fetched the backpack with a playful smirk. Wonwoo snatched the dirtied pouch before gesturing for Mingyu to follow him. Mingyu glanced around, seemingly uneasy. His eyes settled on a darkened doorway.

Jeonghan blew him a sarcastic kiss. 

Mingyu shuddered under his glare, and hurriedly followed after Wonwoo’s receding figure. 

Seungkwan clung to Jihoon’s waist dramatically, before being shoved off unceremoniously. He pouted and followed Hansol to a hut nearest to the forest.

Seungcheol studied them with interest. “They get along well, for being on different teams.” 

Soonyoung nodded, while Jihoon looked off into the distance, exhaustion biting at his bleary vision.

There was a stuffiness in the air that confined them all, words unsaid hanging at the edge of their tongues. The worries, the uncertainty of their future. 

Jihoon found himself clinging to avoidance-- his usual tactic. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” 

Seungcheol was already waving goodbye, nature excited but eyes unusually droopy. 

Soonyoung must have took notice to his blatant aversion, because he sighed in defeat. The look he gave Jihoon said more than he ever would. 

Soonyoung ruffled Jihoon’s hair, an act that sparked annoyance. “Don’t be too disappointed when you lose to us,” 

Jihoon caught his wrist, stare unwavering. “Don’t underestimate me.” 

He released his grip on Soonyoung, whose arm fell to his side lazily. Jihoon couldn’t bring himself to meet the gaze that was aimed at his back.

 

Junhui leaned against the shack’s creaky and poorly constructed wood, pulling at a splinter that was unfortunately driven into his palm. “I sincerely hope this is over soon.” 

Minghao hummed in tired agreement, tracing circles into the flawed flooring. 

The distant sounds of night time creatures could be heard, and it was more than just a simple comfort. Any sign that they weren’t completely alone, completely forgotten by everything was nothing short of a blessing. 

Junhui hissed as the splinter finally broke free from tender skin, leaving a small trail of blood that followed. Minghao watched in disapproval. 

“I told you that you shouldn’t be so sloppy. We don’t have ointment, what if that gets infected?” 

Junhui sent a lopsided grin in response to Minghao’s nagging. “I’ll be lucky if this is the worst thing that happens to me on this mission.” 

Minghao rolled his eyes and settled for passing the time by finally setting up the tent. It had been at least an hour since their arrival, and the others slept soundly. Minghao and Junhui on the other hand-- they stayed up talking about what life was like before their capture. 

Junhui was just a boy, he doesn’t remember much. Or maybe it’s easier not to.

Minghao missed his freedom. He was somewhat of a loner, but that was a different time.   
Junhui felt a surge of hesitance at revealing his abilities at necromancy. It was just the hassle of explaining and justifying himself that undoubtedly hung in the air, the limitations and process itself another. For now, he simply wanted to bask in his friend’s presence. Secrecy was certainly only natural for their circumstances, anyway.

He joined Minghao in their little area of confined fabric and slight discomfort. He struggled grasping at the truth that were given another chance at life, that he wouldn’t die at the hands of tests and pain.

Minghao’s hand brushed against his shoulder hesitantly.

A silent question. 

Junhui guided Minghao’s head to his shoulder. “You should sleep,” he murmured.

Minghao remained there, though his tone was painted in blatant disagreement. “I can’t sleep.”

‘I’m not sleeping if you’re not going to’ was what remained unsaid. 

Junhui sighed, relishing the warmth of the presence next to him. He found himself scooting closer to the heat that was slowly enveloping him. 

That was until a sound shook the forest and shocked Junhui to his core. It was deafening, it echoed in the space surrounding them.

Another. And then another. 

MInghao shot up, his head bumping against Junhui’s clumsily. “What the hell? What’s happening?” 

Junhui scrambled out of the shack in a panicked haste, followed shortly behind by Minghao.

Seokmin was loading a flare gun as people exited their huts in confusion. 

Minghao shouted. “Don’t shoot the flare gun! Those are gun shots-- you’ll give us away.”  
More bangs followed, the screams and yelling and flashes of light came from the woods. 

Junhui felt something sink to the pit of his stomach-- it was heavy and it made it difficult to breathe. 

They weren’t alone anymore. 

Footsteps were hammering towards them. Jungkook emerged, looking utterly dishevelled. With wide eyes and blackened clothes, he approached them quickly. 

“Run. All of you-- meet back at the facility by sunrise,” 

Chan stood rigid by Junhui’s side. “We need-- we need to get in ours groups,” 

The sounds of thundering voices and struggles only grew louder. Jungkook winced. “There’s no time for that! Listen to me. Run and hide. Don’t fight unless it’s absolutely necessary, do you hear me?”

Jungkook touched the ground and suddenly the Earth seemed to shatter below their feet.

The impact of breaking rocks and crumbling soil sent them all flying in different directions. Junhui could hear the grunts and sounds of dismay from his comrades that were scattered across the field in small clusters.

Junhui grasped around blindly, soil burning his eyes and clouding his vision. Someone pulled him up by his forearm and dragged him along as they sprinted away from noises of ear shattering blasts.

He blinked enough to make out Mingyu, who was pulling him along roughly. Wonwoo and Minghao were just barely in front of them, panting and whipping their heads around in fright and confusion. 

They ducked behind an oak tree with thick roots and a protective underbrush. Junhui was squished in between Wonwoo and Minghao, while Mingyu peered over the leaves in alarm. “What’s happening?” 

Wonwoo pulled him backwards, a tangle of curses pouring from his lips. “That doesn’t matter-- we need to fucking stay hidden, keep your head low.” 

Minghao’s breathing was shallow, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Junhui wrapped an arm around him, drawing them closer together. 

There was a rustling overhead, before a resonant voice sounded from above. “You’ll be seen down there, and we don’t want that. Why don’t you come up here instead?” 

The man’s face was painted in colorful blues and pinks, and all sorts of shades in between. His coffee tinted hair was swept in many different directions, and his tan skin glistened with sweat. His darkened eyes held a dreamy, wistful gaze that seemed rather unfocused.

The only ordinary thing about him was the uniform he bore, much like theirs. The only difference was the metallic triangle on his breastplate. 

He was experienced, far more than they were.

Still, Wonwoo bristled at him. “Who are you?”

The man was hanging upside down, a small grin upon his face despite the obvious tension resting in the air.

“Kim Taehyung. Hypnosis and flexibility are my specialties,” His tone was warm, kind. It was the type of voice that would soothe a wailing child.

As if in demonstration, Taehyung pulled himself up and a became a horrifying tangle of limbs and bones in what was a pretzel like shape.

If Junui didn’t want to cough up his innards before, he most certainly did now. 

Minghao recoiled, doing his utmost best to not look completely repulsed. Mingyu and Wonwoo didn’t bother to hide their expressions. 

Taehyung sat up normally, eyes shining. “This is a raid. They do this every so often-- see if we’re up to date on self defense and the element of surprise. We weren’t expecting them so soon, though.” 

Mingyu sighed, relief evident across his features. “So no one will be injured?” 

Taehyung stared at him gravely, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Junhui realized that he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he seemed. His muscles were tense, and sweat pooled off of him. 

Junhui could feel a spirit lingering nearby, and felt a surge of annoyance. It was definitely not the time to communicate with the dead. 

Taehyung ran a stressed hand through distressed locks. “No, that’s exactly what they want. Call it what you will, but I say it’s a destruction of morale. We’ve had people die in these raids before.” His voice lowered to a whisper, a fraction of his face falling. Taehyung’s gentle smile vanished, before it was replaced with something akin to a frown.

Still, it wasn’t quite anguish, nor was it sorrow. It was just… a show of something other than contentedness. 

Junhui himself wasn’t very confident in how to feel about that.

Beside him, Minghao was still glancing around warily. “Can’t you hypnotize them? Tell them to go away?” 

Taehyung glanced off, face flushed. “I can only control one person at a time.” His voice was low and gravelly, as though it hadn’t been used lately.

Junhui wondered how long he had been sitting in this tree for. 

Still, Taehyung urged them to comply with his request. Seeing as it was the best option, they now sat several feet above the damp soil-- shrouded by foliate leaves and the smell of Earth that came with them.

It was Mingyu who spoke up again, if only to break the tense silence. “Um, what’s that on your face?” 

Taehyung flashed a proud grin. “I manage to smuggle some makeup whenever I go out on missions-- it’s neat. I like it,” 

Taehyung raised a brow. “Have you never seen anything like it before?”  
Mingyu offered a slightly embarrassed smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah-- I was born in the facility, so…” 

Taehyung’s eyes softened, his tone fond. “Me too.” 

Junhui realized that there were certainly worse things than remaining hidden with someone like Kim Taehyung. 

 

As Jeonghan was being pulled away, he felt a surge of panic. “Joshua! Joshua can’t defend himself-- Joshua!” 

Seungcheol clamped a hand around his mouth. “Be quiet--we couldn’t find him, remember? I’m sure he’s with someone,” His voice was sharp.

Jihoon kept up with them, eyes wide for any sign that they were being followed. “We need cover, and we need it now. We can’t just keep waiting to be found by one of them.” 

Chan flinched at the screams that met their ears. They echoed along the forest’s dense and closed in space, making it difficult to decipher what direction they were coming from. 

Jeonghan couldn’t focus over the worries that clouded his senses. Not for Joshua alone, but for everyone. 

Were they never destined to live in peace?

Jihoon trotted impatiently ahead, keeping low to the ground. The others followed, Jeonghan rather meekly as Seungcheol still had his hand pressed against his face. 

Seungcheol was talking lowly to him while they continued, alert and ready to defend themselves. “I would take my hand off your mouth, but the last time I did that you yelled. Again.” 

His eyes narrowed. “If I remove my hand, do you promise to stay with us and keep quiet?”   
Jeonghan nodded vigorously, eyelashes batting. 

They came to a halt as Jihoon and Chan surveyed the area, looking for cover. Chan pointed to something that Jeonghan was unable to see crouching down. 

Seungcheol counted down from five slowly, before hesitantly placing his hands down to his side. 

There was a pause. 

“Jo--” 

Jihoon snapped. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” He whipped around and stomped towards Jeonghan, grabbing him by the collar and lightly slapping him. 

“You’re putting all of our lives at risk, you fucking imbecile. We all want to be safe, okay? You won’t be helping Joshua by crying out like a baby. If anything, he’ll think you need help and then put himself at risk. Do you want that, you shitty overgrown toddler?” 

There was a red imprint on the side of Jeonghan’s face. Jihoon’s whisper screaming seemed to have finally gotten to him.

Jihoon’s tone deflated a bit. “It’s--it’s hard, right? To think straight?” 

Jeonghan looked away, a sense of shame flooding his system. He hadn’t been able to think over thoughts of Joshua, Joshua being hurt, Joshua getting killed--

Joshua. 

Jihoon sighed, and awkwardly rubbed his back in an attempt to be comforting. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, dummy. Just--just think from now on.” 

Chan tugged on Jihoon’s arm with a sense of urgency, gesturing in the distance where a few heavily armed men were searching the area from afar. 

 

Seungcheol gulped as Jeonghan checked behind them to ensure that they weren’t trapped on more than one side. Meanwhile Chan slid down an opening in the ground, dirtying himself.   
Jihoon followed suite after providing a brief explanation to Jeonghan and Seungcheol-- who currently seemed a bit lost. 

“From far away, you can’t tell there’s a hole in the ground. Chan’s going to make it rain some-- once those guys don’t see anything around here we’ll be fine.” 

The opening was dirty and uncomfortable. Jeonghan did manage to manipulate some tree roots buried underground that would close the space a bit, just in case. 

Seungcheol leaned against the dirt causally, unbothered. He smirked at Jeonghan. 

“What’s up with you and Joshua, anyway?” 

Jeonghan glared at him reproachfully. “The same thing that’s up with everyone else here. We’re friends,” 

Jihoon snorted. “Friends my ass. You should have seen them on the first night, it was gross--” 

Jeonghan gave him a steely look. “That was supposed to be private,” 

Jihoon met his stare evenly, arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly try to hide it.”

Jeonghan’s tone became defensive. “We thought that you and Seokmin were in your tent.” 

“We were, because we heard you two being all lovey dovey.” 

Chan was perked up in interest, eyes glittering. “You and Joshua really did become close fast. What all happened that night, anyway?” 

Jihoon smirked, not even attempting to lower his gaze. “Well, from what I gathered…” His words become incoherent whispers as Seungcheol and Chan gathered around in interest.

Jeonghan scoffed, and pretended that he was completely indifferent. 

He wasn’t. His face was scarlett-- he was thankful for the darkened lighting. 

Seungcheol’s expression was unreadable. “That...that does not sound like things friends do,” 

Jeonghan scowled. “Best friends, then. Whatever you want to call it as long as it stays within the lines of friendship.” He huffed and emphasized the last word, refusing to meet anyone’s gazes.

There was a strange mood settling in the air. “I wouldn’t recommend getting close in that way, Jeonghan. The things we’ll be doing-- it’ll be hard enough to lose a friend, let alone a--”

“I get it,” Jeonghan’s words were harsher than intended. Seungcheol’s advice was only agitating him, eating away at the fears he was already trying to keep at bay. 

“I understand. Joshua and I are friends, and that’s the end of it.” 

Jihoon grew particularly quiet at Seungcheol’s words. 

 

Seungkwan couldn’t help the feeling gnawing away at his insides. His shaky legs, the way his arms felt hollowed. 

He also unfortunately couldn’t help the way they had at least eight guys on their tail-- covered in heavy duty outfits, bullets spraying the Earth. 

Hansol shot beams of ice at them blindly, narrowly avoiding being hit. He hurriedly put walls of hardened frost up to act as barriers, to hopefully protect them from the guns that followed them. 

Soonyoung, likewise, was having a terrible time coming to terms with the fact that using his ability would mean burning the forest down. He cursed, complaining about feeling useless.

Joshua was wide eyed and a bit dazed. “They’re ruthless,” he whispered.   
Seokmin was trying to shake him out of his stupor by gripping his shoulders. “We have to keep moving,” His fingers were sending out small shocks that finally managed to get Joshua’s attention.   
Joshua managed to clumsily stumble onto his feet, gripping Seokmin’s forearm. The bullets sprayed the Earth and sent chunks of dirt flying, covering them all in soil. 

Seungkwan watched in horror as a whirl of metal whizzed by Hansol’s face. 

“Hansol!” Seungkwan rushed over to the man who was crouching and holding his face, small noises of pain coming from his parted lips. 

He looked up to reveal a large, hideous gash on his left cheek. Hansol blinked back the tears that reddened his eyes. 

Seungkwan gulped, somehow unable to look at the wound directly. “I--I can’t heal it unless I’m focused. And this--”

An anguished shriek arose from a man Soonyoung had ignited.

Seungkwan fought back nausea at the stench. “I--I can’t, Hansol.”

Hansol sent snow hurling towards the spot where flames now licked the ground, only to be extinguished. He was still wincing, his left eye closed from pain. 

“Don’t freak, I’ll be okay for now.” Hansol grunted a response and gripped Seungkwan’s hand in his. “We-- we need to go. This is getting bad,” 

Seokmin and Joshua were the furthest ahead, having to slow every now and then so as not to lose sight of the others. Seokmin was reluctant to use his speed-- even he couldn’t avoid flying metal. Though, he did shock the ground from which the men ran on as much as he could manage. 

Soonyoung cursed madly--Seungkwan was confused at seeing the tears streak down his face as he watched the flames engulf multiple individuals. 

Perhaps it was the sheer gore of it all that got to him. 

Seungkwan couldn’t bare to watch. 

Hansol worked with him to keep the blazes under control. Blood flowed down his face, even through the makeshift bandage Seungkwan made out of fabric torn from his shirt.  
Hansol was struggling to properly analyze what was going on around him, eyesight limited from his pain. 

There was a sudden popping sound as bullets ricocheted off the air in front of them. 

Seungkwan blinked. 

Hoseok lightly pushed him backwards, hand lingering on his shoulder comfortingly. 

“Ah, I’m getting too old for this.” He smiled playfully, the corners of his lips pulling up to his ears. 

Namjoon shouldered by him. His exposed skin was strangely toughened, as though it were made of jagged rock. He wormed around the force field enforced by Hoseok and began sprinting head first towards the armed forces. 

Soonyoung gaped, while Joshua covered his mouth in disbelief. 

Hoseok watched him, all too knowingly. “That. That is why he leads us,” 

Namjoon slammed men around viciously, blood spattering the ground. Ammunition seemingly had no effect on him as he continued his rampage. 

Seungkwan felt bile rise in his throat at the disturbing sight of Namjoon using his bare hands to rip people to shreds. 

Hoseok nudged him lightly, his usual demeanor gone. “This is our reality. We can only ever be what they make of us.”

Seungkwan couldn’t stop his bottom lip from trembling, eyes glossy. “And what is that?” His voice was breaking, his heart hammering against his chest.

Hoseok closed his eyes, the rising dawn behind him illuminating his silhouette angelically. 

His words were cold, tinted with the bitterness of a man who had seen far too much. 

The sight would surely plague Seungkwan and haunt his sleep for the rest of his untimely days. 

“Monsters.” 

He had known it was coming-- but he hadn’t been prepared for it. 

Soonyoung ushered him away, explaining that they were almost back to the facility, that dawn meant everything was okay again. 

But Seungkwan didn’t think anything would ever truly be okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you so much for reading. Just to clarify, the setting doesn't take place in a certain time period, more like another reality type place. Also, feedback is encouraged and highly appreciated :) see you all soon~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That must have been what finally rattled everyone-- the sheer reminder, the sheer shock of it all.   
> It had really happened. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t some sort of hellish fantasy. Their second chance at life was another damned reality that would haunt them all for years to come; and they were powerless against it.

Chapter Four

Mingyu panted heavily, vision blurry, exhilaration still flooding his system. He was alongside Wonwoo, who gripped his arm harshly-- as though it would vanish beneath his touch.

Minghao and Junhui were ahead of them, sprinting in relief towards the facility just barely visible through the unforgiving tree line. Taehyung matched their pace, his side bleeding, face scratched and bruised. 

The sound of thundering footsteps and questioning yells were deafening. Mingyu winced when he saw Joshua heaving up his insides. A man Mingyu didn’t recognize was at his side, asking for space and then guiding him inside the facility. 

Junhui held his wrist tenderly, saying gently that he believed it to be fractured. Mingyu himself could feel a slight limp from his left ankle, no doubt because of a sprang.

Taehyung leaped towards Namjoon with open arms, wrapping them around his leader tightly. 

Namjoon returned the embrace. “I’m glad you’re okay, brother,” 

Mingyu found himself gravitating towards the authoritative presence that Namjoon somehow exerted. “You two are siblings?”

Namjoon smiled, but it was tight lipped and grim-- especially with his blood soaked clothes that hung off of his frame in tattered strands. 

He pulled away from Taehyung’s hug. “We might as well be,” he murmured. 

There was a sudden, quick footed blur that nearly knocked Mingyu off his feet as they toppled into Taehyung. 

“Tae, Tae, I couldn’t find you--it was just like then, and I--I just--” Jungkook palmed at front of the man’s stained uniform. 

It was surreal to see someone with such a naturally intimidating demeanor be reduced to a trembling, lip biting mess. 

Taehyung dropped to his knees, taking Jungkook with him. He ran nimble fingers through his hair and whispered sweet things of comfort while holding the man in his arms.

To watch made it feel Mingyu like he was invading something that wasn’t meant for him, so Mingyu motioned for Wonwoo to follow him into the building. 

“We need to figure out if we’re missing anyone.” His voice was raspy and unfamiliar to his ears.

Wonwoo just blinked at him silently, legs weak and hands clammy. Mingyu led him inside, trying to ignore the way Wonwoo was swaying on his feet and failing to do so. 

Seokmin was at a table with Chan, both were staring around at the frenzied atmosphere in apparent distress. Seungkwan was ushering Hansol to the clinic, but there were already so many figures attempting to get medical supplies and Seungkwan released a noise of obvious distraught. 

The other just held his bleeding face, limp. 

Jihoon shoved past people to get to them, eyes swollen and voice scratchy. “They sent me to look for you-- we’re meeting in the training room.”

At seeing them, Jihoon breathed a sigh of relief. Hansol glanced over, tugging on Seungkwan’s sleeve lazily and pointing in their direction. They joined them hesitantly, Seungkwan because of his nerves and Hansol because of his pain.

The training room was disturbingly quiet. There were no whispers, no small murmurs of speculation. No teasing banter, nothing.

They each returned to their respective groups, the decision being that such a strategy was the easiest way to detect a missing person with their numbers. Mingyu wanted to sleep, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and fatigue. 

There was a short lived ruckus coming from Jeonghan. “What do you mean you don’t know where he is? He couldn’t have just disappeared,” His tone was sharp, his eyes widened and still dilated from adrenaline.

Mingyu coughed into his elbow, throat dry and closing. “I saw some guy take him in the building earlier-- he was dressed like us,”

Jeonghan stifled any further comments and sat down once again, chewing the inside of his cheek in a quiet protest. He didn’t seem to have the energy to do anything else-- so long as Joshua was in the building, his complaints could be contained. 

Soonyoung was burning a hole in the carpet where he sat, but no one could muster the heart to discourage him. Mingyu felt a strange, sick bitterness creep up and send a cold chill down his spine. 

“What’s the point of even trying to live when this is all we’ll ever have?” His anger didn’t carry through his words. He sounded tired, resigned. 

And he was.

Chan buried his face into his hands to muffle his crying.

That must have been what finally rattled everyone-- the sheer reminder, the sheer shock of it all.   
It had really happened. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t some sort of hellish fantasy. Their second chance at life was another damned reality that would haunt them all for years to come; and they were powerless against it. 

And suddenly Minghao was wiping his tears away with a sense of enragement that turned into sorrow. Junhui laid his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes. Seokmin patted Chan’s back, face blotchy and reddened. 

Soonyoung threw a practice dummy to the wall with a scream that would resonate in Mingyu’s memories for the rest of his life, surely. Seungcheol joined him, and together the room became a physical display of their emotions. Wonwoo curled up in the corner from which he sat with Mingyu, unmoving. 

Hansol let Seungkwan cry while he did his best to heal the ugly wound on his face without complaint, his own eyes watery and gaze shadowed with grief. Jihoon appeared to be nothing less of a ragdoll, levitating the already ruined dummies and slamming them against the wall with such force it left dents. 

Jeonghan had his eyes trained on the door, willing it to open with such determination that Mingyu wasn’t even surprised to see the door crack. 

Joshua was pale in the face, a cold sweat making his stride clumsy and awkward looking. The same man from before took a strangely resentment free gaze at the room, before turning and making a noiseless leave. 

Jeonghan turned and met Seungcheol’s stare briefly. There was an unsaid tension hanging in the air, regarding something Mingyu hadn’t been around to see.

Joshua stumbled forward and fell into Jeonghan’s embrace, the latter welcomed it wholeheartedly, practically melting the moment they met. Mingyu thought he saw Jeonghan plant his lips against Joshua’s forehead, but blamed it on the growing haziness that was blurring his vision. 

There was a slight nudge in Mingyu’s side as Wonwoo pulled out the book of edible berries in a slight lethargy. 

“We never finished reading.” His lips were a chapped pink, eyes tainted by heavy bags sitting underneath them. Wonwoo wasn’t the best at conveying his thoughts or emotional exhaustion, and Mingyu could relate to that terribly well.

But even through Wonwoo’s glassy stare, he wanted to read with Mingyu. And he wasn’t sure why that affected him as much as it did. 

Mingyu swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he whispered. 

 

 

Joshua could feel himself reeling from the sheer intensity of his pounding head. His steps were disconnected, but he couldn’t stop it if he tried. All he could focus on was the overwhelming emotions steering his sense into overdrive. Everyone’s panic, worry, sorrow-- it all jumbled together and made his vision fade into spots of black and faded colors. 

Bile rose in his throat, and he felt his innards be spilled into the earth in front of him. Joshua couldn’t find it in himself to be repulsed over the ferocious anger, grief, and so many other emotions that he couldn’t name running his system. He felt all of it and it made him drop to the ground, everything was a hazy mess of pain and clumsy limbs. 

Broken, panicked thoughts echoed in his mind. Joshua felt ill-- the kind of ill that came from exhaustion and overstimulation. 

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. There was a ringing in his ears that simply refused to spare him. 

He could feel someone hoisting him onto his feet and leading him somewhere-- Joshua could certainly feel the lights on his eyes. But it was stuffy and still causing Joshua to stagger over his disjointed legs while he clinged loosely to the stranger who supported his body weight. 

As they continued, Joshua couldn’t process the time that had passed. Eventually, blurred lights became familiar monochrome hallways. Burdening sickness became a slight flare of pain in his abdomen, his migraine diminishing in size slightly. The ear splitting thoughts that belonged to others had left him at last, leaving Joshua to feel the pain in his throat and his dried, bloodied lips. 

There was the creaking of a door, the flickering of a light before Joshua was forcefully plopped down into a threaded loveseat with a faded floral pattern. There was a windowsill covered with a heavy maroon curtain; behind it was the vague silhouette of a potted plant. The first Joshua had seen throughout the monochrome building. In fact, this room had a certain freshness to it that was welcomed. Succulents were suspended from the ceiling with thin strings, and made the room feel open despite being rather closed in.

The man leaned against the doorway, eyes unfocused and breathing hard. He seemed to exhale a stifled breath when he saw that Joshua had regained his wits about him. 

He extended a calloused hand. “You’re an empath,” It raspy and quiet, as though the man were afraid that speaking to loud would send him into another fit.

Joshua nodded, throat scratchy. “It was like I felt everything from everyone all at once-- I didn’t know what to do.” 

The man nodded, his appearance rugged and laced with blatant fatigue. “I can read minds. Stuff like that happens whenever there’s cause for worry.” 

Joshua wanted to express his gratitude, to ask him what his name was, to inquire about staying composed during ‘stuff like that’, as he said. 

Before he could even attempt to articulate his thoughts, the man cut him off. “Don’t thank me. You’ll have to get used to that eventually-- but we couldn’t have you passing out on us with so many already injured,” There were dark circles under his eyes that pierced into Joshua harshly. 

He was rather intimidating-- or maybe he was just a bit drained.

“Min Yoongi. Feel free to use this place if you need it,” He chewed his bottom lip, veiny arms crossed, posture slack. 

Joshua blinked. “Are you sure? You need it too, right?” 

Yoongi waved him off. “Not so much anymore. I only come in here to avoid people when they’re nagging.” He straightened upwards, brushing dirt of his clothes as he did so. 

Joshua thanked him, causing the latter to frown. “Don’t thank me.” His voice was curt and cause for easy scolding, despite the fact that Joshua had only been trying to be polite. 

Minutes ticked by in a stoic silence, and Joshua could only feel unease creeping into his thoughts. He wanted to know if everyone had managed to get by during the attack without serious injury.   
Yoongi coughed, breaking the atmosphere that surrounded them. “The halls should be clear by now, but you’ll be unsteady on your feet for awhile.” 

He stood and motioned for Joshua to follow him, seeming reluctant to touch him without it being necessary. Frankly, his blunt nature was appreciated. Joshua was uncomfortable with being handsy with people he was unfamiliar with, anyway. Yoongi seemed to respect personal space and didn’t attempt to dote on him, and Joshua could only be earnestly thankful. Besides, he could only think of one person he never got tired of clinging to. 

Yoongi escorted him to the training room where Joshua assumed his friends had decided to occupy for the time being. There were screams of frustration and loud thumps coming from inside, and the emotional atmosphere made him weary. Still, Yoongi pressed on the metal door and it opened. 

The room was a mess, as were its inhabitants. There were tears and yells and violence against objects that couldn’t even defend themselves. 

But Joshua could only feel relief seeping into his heart at the realization that there was not a single soul missing. Aside from Hansol, he couldn’t see any worrying wounds on the people he cared deeply about. 

It was far better than he had been anticipating, even through the despair filled whimpers. 

Yoongi surveyed the room’s damage, before patting Joshua on the back and parting ways.   
He was straightforward in his stride, and he didn’t look back. 

Joshua felt something fluttering in his chest. He turned, anticipation building inside of him. 

Jeonghan stared at him, clothes shredded and face smeared with dirt and leaves. Still, he was very much alive, and only had a few cuts and bruises here and there. 

His eyes were pleading, desperate. Joshua hadn’t realized how much he had yearned for Jeonghan before his swollen eyes locked with his. 

Jeonghan whipped behind him briefly, before turning to him with a strange determination etched on his features. 

He stretched out his arms, and Joshua fell into his warm embrace like it was home.   
Joshua laced his arms around Jeonghan’s neck and buried his face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent, that admittedly smelled like blood and sweat at the moment.

Joshua wouldn’t have it differently. 

He could feel Jeonghan’s breath on him as he tenderly traced circles in the small of Joshua’s back. 

There was something chaste and sweet placed on Joshua’s forehead and his eyes fluttered shut. 

But underneath the comfort and bliss, there was something eating away at Jeonghan’s conscience. It was as though it were a burr in Joshua’s side, present and stinging, but not requiring all thought. 

He could feel unease coming off of him in waves. It was more than the worries of when they were separated-- Joshua knew that much. 

And then a single, muddled word entered his head and made his breath hitch.

Seungcheol. 

Why was Jeonghan thinking of Seungcheol? Why had he popped into his mind while they were together?

He opened his eyes and peeked over Jeonghan’s shoulder to glance at the burly man. He wasn’t critically injured-- no more banged up than the rest of them. 

Joshua wasn’t possessive. He knew that having concerns over your friends after a near death experience was completely reasonable. 

He just couldn’t understand why the thought entered Jeonghan’s mind when Joshua was the one entangled in his arms, playing with his hair and whispering to him affectionately.   
He just couldn’t understand why it felt as though a wedge had been put between them. 

It was later in the night, after everyone had showered and tucked themselves into wonderfully comforting beds that Joshua laid awake on his back and studied all the cracks and imperfections that littered the ceiling. 

A sudden thought crept up into his mind and he couldn’t shake it. Jeonghan was constantly rambling about the ‘disgusting’ lack of nature present indoors--but Joshua had managed to find some flowers in a room that was his to use when he pleased. Of course Yoongi had implied that it was for emergencies, but he also stated that even he himself took advantage of the secluded area.

Joshua still couldn’t help the tiny twinge of guilt that he felt, regardless. But even then, it wasn’t as if Joshua was going to wake Jeonghan up. That would be senseless, and he needed his rest.  
They all did. 

But then there was a small, steady tapping coming from above him. 

“I can feel you thinking from all the way up here,” Jeonghan giggled, his voice hoarse.   
Joshua could feel his face getting warm at the sound of Jeonghan’s sleepy, quiet rasps.

The man stirred above him, and carefully made his way down from the top bunk with heavy limbs. He didn’t seem to mind if he woke anyone up-- or perhaps he wasn’t awake enough to fully process noise. Either way, Jeonghan was standing next to him with ruffled hair and his night shirt unbuttoned. 

He kneeled down next to Joshua with a tired smile on his lips, looking effortlessly beautiful with lazy, hooded eyes and unkempt hair. 

Joshua was sitting up now, eyelids heavy. “Sorry. Did I wake you?” The words were more drawn out and huskier than usual, and he thought that Jeonghan may have parted his lips a bit.

Jeonghan reached his hand out to brush Joshua’s hair back, but then faltered-- pretending he had to scratch the side of his head instead.   
Since when had things become so tense?

Joshua acted as though he hadn’t noticed, and hoped the darkness hid his slight disappointment at not being teased. 

“You didn’t wake me,” Jeonghan mumbled, words slurred.

Joshua scooted to the edge of the bed. “If you don’t mind, do you want to come somewhere with me?” 

Jeonghan somehow managed to glow an angelic hue even in the unforgiving blackness as he nodded. 

Joshua guided him through the corridors, only barely managing to avoid bringing up the fact that Jeonghan shied away from his touch. 

They entered the room with slow, sleepy steps. Joshua tugged and parted the curtain, allowing moonlight to spill in and bask the room in a navy glow. 

The vase sat on the windowsill, and the light illuminated the air succulents that dangled loosely. 

Joshua mustered a smile despite the growing dread that made his hands feel clammy. “Ta-dah,” 

He turned to face Jeonghan shyly. “You always complained about how there aren’t any flowers indoors, so I found a room with some.” 

He was met with silence. 

“Jeonghan?” 

The man seemed to snapped out of his stupor. “Oh, it’s great! Really,” 

Joshua didn’t understand why his lips were upturned, but his eyes weren’t shining like they usually did when Jeonghan was truly pleased about something.

“Thank you, Joshua.”

Joshua could feel himself deflating. Why was Jeonghan so unenthusiastic? Why was he hurting--why did Joshua suddenly feel like a burden?

“I don’t understand,” He hadn’t meant to voice his thoughts aloud, but then he said them and they couldn’t be taken back. 

They were shaky and quiet. Jeonghan must have barely heard them. 

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan’s plastered, rehearsed smile wavered, and for a moment he looked absolutely terrified. 

Joshua could feel his eyes stinging. He had been so worried that something would happen to Jeonghan-- that he would die. That he would be hurt and Joshua wouldn’t have been there. 

And now things were stilted and uncomfortable-- faked and unpleasant. 

“Jeonghan-- have I done something?” Joshua hated how small his voice sounded and his hands clenched.

There were a few beats of unsteady silence before Jeonghan replied. “Joshua, you haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Jeonghan couldn’t meet his gaze. 

Joshua felt like it was all slipping through his fingers. He had turned himself in just to find Jeonghan, just to experience life with him. 

So why was their joy so short lived?

“Jeonghan, something’s wrong. Please tell me,” He sounded so desperate, so bothered. Joshua was usually excellent at keeping himself composed.

But not with Jeonghan. Never with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan replied with some fake excuse of not resting well and that’s when Joshua couldn’t hold it in anymore.

It wasn’t from this alone. It was from the prospect of losing someone, anyone that he cared about. It was being reunited with Jeonghan but still feeling like they weren’t together. It was getting a second chance at life and still being treated like anything but human.

His eyes stung and Joshua gritted his teeth as his cheeks were wetted.

Jeonghan’s facade crumbled away, revealing a weary look and widened eyes. “Hey, hey, Joshua,” 

He stepped closer but Joshua pulled away. 

“I was worried that I was going to lose you--I was so scared,” Joshua stared at the floor.

“Joshua--”

His tearful wrath was directed at the man still attempting to comfort-- and his breath hitched in his throat. 

“And I come back and something’s different-- aren’t these types of reunions supposed to strengthen things like this?” He gestured shakily in between them both.

“Shua, listen--”

“But then you think of Seungcheol while you’re holding me, and I just--” 

Jeonghan pressed himself flush against Joshua, foreheads bumping. Joshua could feel him sigh as his voice cut through his emotional rambling.

“Jisoo,” He rasped. His eyes were red, bottom lip shaky. He had him pushed against a desk situated alongside the wall. 

Joshua found it difficult to breathe.

“I’m scared that I’m going to get in too deep,” His finger traced Joshua’s collarbone, “--and then lose you.”

Joshua couldn’t help but melt into the touch. 

“What we’re doing is dangerous--I was scared that I’d never see you again when we were separated.” His moved to cup Joshua’s face and his skin broke out in chills.

“Seungcheol said that romantic relationships could only end badly,” Jeonghan’s lips tickled Joshua’s neck and he shuddered. 

Joshua couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to make that decision? We’ve already kissed.”

Jeonghan’s fingers lovingly tangled themselves in Joshua’s messy hair. “I know, I know. I didn’t want either of us getting hurt,”

Joshua leaned in, halfway between the desk and Jeonghan’s lap, a teasing grin on his face. “How’d that work out for you?”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Joshua--are you teasing me?” 

Joshua was usually relatively passive and left the playful jibes to Jeonghan, but the situation was too good to pass up.

“I am,” He reversed their roles. Jeonghan was now propped on the desk while Joshua placed himself on his thighs, arms wrapped around his torso. 

Jeonghan breathed in his scent and let out a puffy breath of laughter. “You’ll regret that,”

Joshua suppressed a shudder. 

Jeonghan’s hands trailed down his sides and threaded through his hair. His lips teased and nipped and Joshua’s collarbones, even going as far as to bring Joshua forward even more. 

But he wouldn’t kiss him.

Joshua craved it, he longed for Jeonghan to just press their lips together. But alas, he didn’t want to be the one to give in.

“You’re so pretty, Jisoo.” Jeonghan brushed their lips together, daring Joshua to move forward. 

He resisted with gritted teeth.

“So kind, so lovely,” Jeonghan lightly undid the first few buttons of Joshua’s nightshirt, matching his own. His stared at exposed skin without shame and bit his lip.

Joshua might die. 

Jeonghan’s nimble fingers cupped Joshua’s face while smiling in adoration. Joshua squirmed.

“Can I be the only one to call you Jisoo?” Joshua couldn’t help but sigh as Jeonghan clawed at his shirt.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jeonghan leaned forward and smirked like the demon he is, running his hands through Joshua’s hair and even having the audacity to tug it.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Jisoo?” His breath fanned out across Joshua’s cheek. And he looked at him so tenderly, like he was everything in the world and more.

Joshua pulled Jeonghan forwards by his collar and closed what little space existed between their forms. 

It was sweet and needed. Jeonghan submitted to Joshua, allowing his lips to part slightly. 

It made something warm fill Joshua’s insides until he was dizzy and had to pull away to gasp for air.

Jeonghan smirked, face flushed prettily. Joshua didn’t think it was fair to be that pretty.

He could feel the fire burning in his cheeks as Jeonghan stared at him intently.

Joshua pulled them flush together once more, melting together easily. 

They left the room winded, with tension resolved and hammering heartbeats.  
“I’ll get you one of these days, Yoon Jeonghan.” 

The latter turned and batted his eyelashes innocently, before pretending to have dropped something. He leaned towards the ground, his loose white shirt revealing more skin than Joshua could handle. He met Jeonghan’s devious expression with a coy, flustered smile.

Jeonghan winked at him, before turning and stalking down the corridor. “Whatever you say, Jisoo.”

Joshua wouldn’t admit how amazing it felt to hear his name on Jeonghan’s lips.

 

 

Wonwoo had never suffered through nightmares despite all that he had witnessed. It was more common for him to go through stages of emptiness and disassociation, because it’s easier to get through reality if you feel like you aren’t apart of it. Despite that, he finds himself waking up every few hours in a cold sweat and shaky fingers. 

It could be the stress that’s getting to him--the whole ‘my life is already in danger and I haven’t even finished training’, or maybe it has something to do with ‘I have to live the rest of my life pretending to be a free man when I’m not’. Lying was always an easy form of escapism. When Wonwoo was stuck in some ramshack orphanage in the city, he took advantage of his powers and slipped away. He took advantage of his powers and stole things he didn’t have. 

And he lied to himself. Those people didn’t need fancy watches or wallets filled with twenty dollar bills. 

And maybe he was right. But then there was also the possibility that he so, so wrong in his actions. And yet he kept doing it, because it was the closest thing to a hobby, the only thing getting him through. 

Then came the recklessness. The idea that he was special, that Wonwoo could avoid being caught because there was no one else like him, surely. 

He had been so very, very wrong. The last thing he had taken had been wallet from some poor guy around his age waiting for a bus.

It hadn’t been long after that until Wonwoo messed up. Some kid must have escaped, and workers were already searching for him. 

He had been in the wrong place at the wrong time--but Wonwoo supposed that the same could be said for all of his victims, so perhaps being captured was the universe’s way of avenging them. 

None of that mattered now. After his imprisonment, Wonwoo promised himself to not dwell on the past. To live on despite the fact that there was nothing to keep going for. 

And that toxic mindset is something that he has trouble relieving himself of. The nightmares that keep disturbing his slumber aren’t bullet filled blood fests-- they’re dreams of him with his old family, faces he can’t recall. They’re him being forced to babysit the younger kids. 

They’re images of Wonwoo fucking everything up, being overly confident and ruining his already ruined life. 

The night terrors are so horrifying because they’re real. They’re everything he’s tried to keep locked away, to avoid thinking of, to dispose of his sorrows the only way he knows how. 

Wonwoo can feel his lanky limbs heavy, his arm hanging off the bed. The room was suddenly too stuffy for his liking, too many other people despite having few roommates. 

Wonwoo leaves quietly, holding his breath and blending in to surfaces around him. It was dark, so he doubted that anyone would be able distinguish his blurred movements-- but by now he had sense enough to remain vigilant anyway.

The door creaked loudly and Wonwoo inwardly cringed-- but the lack of noise coming from behind him was enough to let Wonwoo know that he hadn’t disturbed anyone. 

He wasn’t quite certain on where he was going, but decided that taking a midnight shower wasn’t as weird as it sounded in his head. 

Clearing his mind was his best option. What kind of creep roamed the halls at in the middle of the night, anyway?

Oh. 

Apparently Jeonghan and Joshua were the creeps who roamed the halls. 

Well, Wonwoo wasn’t one to pry-- and it looked as though they were headed back to their dorm room anyway. He was just relieved that he had sense enough to remain invisible.

That would’ve been an awkward situation, especially with the way they were clinging to each other. Gross.

Wonwoo slipped into the bathroom quietly, rubbing his face into the palms of his hands in order to wake himself up. He decided against a hot shower, he wasn’t in the mood to be scalded. Besides, water that was chilling would make him sleepy, and he truly wanted to fall back into peaceful slumber. 

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, someone must have had the same idea, because Mingyu stumbled into the bathroom with jerky movements. His eyes were wide, and he seemed as though he were ready to jump out of his skin. 

He clung onto the sink’s counter, knuckles white, splashing water on his face noisily. 

Wonwoo couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, especially seeing Mingyu’s rather obvious disarray. He had even humored Wonwoo and practiced reading to help serve as a distraction. 

Wonwoo was suddenly incredibly thankful that he was still clothed. 

He leaned against the wall, debating on whether or not to make his presence known or to allow it to be discovered. Would it be strange, if Mingyu just turned around and saw him staring?

Yeah, probably.   
Wonwoo’s decision was made for him when he saw the way Mingyu’s shoulders were shaking. 

A sense of alarm rattled his system. Against better judgement, Wonwoo reached out and lightly placed a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. 

Mingyu bristled, and turned around as though he were ready to fight someone. 

It would be a long night, wouldn’t it?

 

 

Soonyoung was keyed up and couldn’t find it in himself to return to his (previously) wonderfully undisturbed slumber. He thought that he could see a glimpse of morning light starting to filter through the curtains-- that would have alarmed him, but Namjoon hadn’t given any orders for them to be up and ready by sunrise.

It was quiet, eerily so. The usually the slight scraping of soles in the hallways that lingered around their door at any ungodly hour was simply absent. The early stirrings of birds and murmurs coming from the cafeteria were nonexistent.  
It seemed as though no one had the energy nor the will to do otherwise.

That is, except Jihoon. 

His bed was dishevelled and unkempt. Soonyoung was relatively unfazed-- he had no reason to be concerned or preoccupied with thoughts of whatever the hell Jihoon was doing. 

But it was a known fact that Jihoon was a heavy sleeper, and a forced to be reckoned with when he’s just awakened from a nap. There was something missing, a strange contradiction to the sturdy walls that Jihoon had built so well. 

Soonyoung stifled his curiosity because frankly he didn’t care very much. Jihoon was a bothersome presence that never seemed to pass up the opportunity to insult him. He was mean spirited and bitter, and probably the only person who he genuinely dislikes. 

The day they sparred was supposed to have been nothing but friendly fun, but Jihoon has had it out for him since then. Soonyoung can feel it in his bones. 

It could be because he was exposed, and someone with a naturally prideful air around him likely didn’t appreciate that.  
Or maybe it was because he gave up and resented Soonyoung for it. 

Either way, he was a dick with a fragile masculinity who had far too much anger than his tiny body could possibly contain. That must be why he scowled so much. 

Soonyoung tossed and turned uncomfortably, covers and sheets wrapping around him and rendering him nothing but a defenseless burrito. A comfy burrito, but defenseless still.

Soonyoung felt a surge of frustration burn through his veins. Stupid Jihoon, making him think at ass crack in the morning. He groaned in reluctant acceptance, flailing and struggling to get out of the covers that confined his limbs. 

He eventually ended up on the floor with a dull thud and began flopping around uselessly.

There was a sudden movement coming from the bunk next to him as Minghao reluctantly heaved Soonyoung in an upwards sitting position while stumbling around blearily, still half asleep. 

He undid the blanket confinements with clumsy, disinterested fingers. With the comforter now laying strewn across the bed, Soonyoung opened his mouth to speak. 

“I don’t want to know. I didn’t see anything, anything at all. The people here are crazy, I swear.” Minghao mumbled to himself as he clamored back to the safety of his bunk, seeming a bit fazed. Maybe he was just tired. 

Soonyoung dusted himself off, and retreated to the doorway with careful steps.

He paused once he heard a groggy voice coming from behind him. “If I ever wake up to see you rolling around on the floor again, you’re a dead man.” 

Soonyoung decided against any sort of retort, because he was painfully aware of that fact already. It was a blessing that Wonwoo hadn’t woken up, otherwise he might’ve been murdered. 

“I second that.” 

Damn it. 

Soonyoung crept along the halls in wary silence, feeling incredibly out of place and paranoid. If anyone happened to stumble upon him, he would have absolutely nothing to say for himself. ‘What am I doing? Oh, I’m just looking for a mean dwarf who I don’t even like, but I guess I’m worried because it’s kinda weird to be up at this hour, but I mean, I’m not weird I swear’. 

If anyone stumbled upon him, he would have absolutely nothing to say for himself. 

Soonyoung could hear a clock ticking somewhere, and it only added to his anxiety. He had searched the training room (it was locked until after breakfast), the cafeteria (midnight snacks are always understandable but they were also locked away), and a weird feeling began to sink into his stomach. 

Even if they weren’t exactly on the most friendly terms, Soonyoung didn’t want Jihoon to get hurt. 

That was a lie. But, Soonyoung at least didn’t want him to be critically injured--and wandering around at night could lead to that. Yes, absolutely. 

Soonyoung found himself in the back of the facility, which was more of a warehouse than anything else. It was littered with spare mechanical parts, dust, peeling wallpaper and cracked tile. It seemed as though these halls hadn’t been in use for several years, and merely left to rot. Soonyoung found it to be a waste, they could clean this up and make use of the room. 

But Soonyoung wasn’t in charge, and what did he know anyway?

Soonyoung was just about to give in to resignation when a dim light escaped a small hole in the ceiling. 

His eyes narrowed, and he could barely make out a square against the ceiling. There were wooden crates stacked up against each other, creating an inconspicuous path to the attic. 

Jihoon hadn’t been a child prodigy for nothing. If it wasn’t for the smallest gap, Soonyoung would have never dreamed of something like this being hidden away. Then again, everything had secrets if you knew where to look. 

Soonyoung cautiously climbed the crates leading upwards, attempting not to care that they were wobbling around a bit. He outlined a square beneath his fingertips, and eventually found a latch of sorts. 

He pushed it open with an irritatingly loud creak. 

The attic was nicer than expected. The decor was simple maroon and silver, and a surprisingly carpeted floor. There was a sofa that probably had seen better days, a swirly chair, and a desk.   
The walls were dark and faded, and there in the center of it all sat Lee Jihoon sitting in a swirly chair and draped over a heavy, irritatingly long book. 

His head was awkwardly slumped on the pages, cheek reddened and smushed. His face lacked his usual scowl, and his brows weren’t furrowed aggressively.

And for once, Jihoon actually looked rather peaceful. 

Soonyoung peered closer in a vague attempt to glimpse the book that Jihoon had been reading. Papers marked with notes and indecipherable scribbles littered the floor and open desk space. 

The floor creaked beneath Soonyoung’s misplaced step, and suddenly any thought of Jihoon being even remotely peaceful was forgotten. 

In an instant, Jihoon jerked awake and flinched in surprise at seeing Soonyoung mere inches from his face. 

He flailed out and clumsily smacked Soonyoung across the face, the later hissing in pain.   
Jihoon fell onto the floor with a groan. 

Soonyoung held his face and cried, “What the hell! Do you just wake up and abuse people?” 

Jihoon jumped off the floor, face flushed from both embarrassment and fury. “The fuck are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to wake up and see you right in my face, asshat.” 

Soonyoung huffed. “That hurt, and it was extremely uncalled for.” He crossed his arms and refused to look at the man who was silently seething before him. 

Jihoon plopped down in his chair and began to spin violently, hands covering his face while he grunted in frustration. 

Soonyoung found that despite how terrifying the sight before him was, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Jihoon appearing to be breaking down in a mix of spinny chair angst. 

He stopped suddenly, and stared Soonyoung down with exhausted eyes. His hair was ruffled, eyes bloodshot-- the bags that sat under Jihoon’s eyes were far too noticeable, and the sliver of satisfaction that had wormed itself into Soonyoung’s smug face wavered. 

Jihoon sighed. “Whatever. I don’t give a shit if you’re here, but if you tell anyone-- and I mean anyone--”

He leaned forward, tone low and venomous. “I’ll have your head on a stick right where you stand.” 

Soonyoung could only nod with wide eyes. “I can accept that,” 

He grinned cheekily. “...But only if you show me what you’re studying,” 

Jihoon scowled. “I’m not studying anything. I just like having my own space.”  
His eyes narrowed, “You know, without anyone else bothering me.” 

Soonyoung knew that Jihoon’s words were bitterly directed at his presence, but couldn’t find the decency in himself to be bothered to care. Instead, his eyes drifted to the papers laying haphazardly across Jihoon’s desk, before snatching one up and bringing it close to his face for further inspection.   
Jihoon let out a strangled noise of protest, reaching across the wood with an outstretched hand-- before losing his balance and flipping the chair over. 

Soonyoung snorted before scanning the various sketches that were drawn out. There were multiple equations, along with many erase marks and blurred pencil. Vague drawings of the human body, particularly the arm area were labelled. Notes on medicines and medical procedures were also present. 

Jihoon kicked Soonyoung in the shin before yanking the paper from his grasp. 

Soonyoung writhed a bit under the intense hatred burning in Jihoon’s face, but he could only wink and smile mockingly in response. 

“Jesus christ, are you always so insufferable? It’s human anatomy,” Jihoon was hurriedly stacking his notes in order, refusing to spare Soonyoung even the smallest of glances. 

Soonyoung noted the slight worry that laced his voice, the way his face was scrunched in mild disdain and chose not to comment on it. He had pestered the man enough, and now had something to keep him in line-- and Soonyoung couldn’t be more pleased. 

Jihoon seemed utterly resigned as he collapsed into his chair once more. “Just--just get out of here and leave me alone. I can’t stand you,” 

Soonyoung barked out a laugh. “You’re just mad because now I have dirt on you, you mean little dwarf man.” 

Jihoon growled, “I know that you didn’t just refer to me as a ‘mean little dwarf man’.”

Soonyoung blinked at him innocently, tilting his head back arrogantly. “Who, me? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

There was a moment of tense, hostile quiet. 

Soonyoung whispered under his breath, “Mean little dwarf man,” 

Jihoon launched himself at Soonyoung and knocked him backwards. 

Soonyoung yelped in surprise as he landed roughly onto the floor. Jihoon sat atop him, clawing at him with ferocity. Soonyoung would have retaliated, but scorching Jihoon alive seemed like it would be a bit much. And so he opted for stopping Jihoon with a swift knee to the stomach. 

The latter let out a noise of pain before rolling off of Soonyoung and laying on the floor. Soonyoung also stayed in his position, out of the terrifying prospect that any movement may trigger another vengeful attack. 

Jihoon panted unevenly. “You,” he half heartedly slapped Soonyoung’s arm, “--are the fucking worst.”

Soonyoung couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled inside of his throat. His side hurt, everything stung, and Jihoon was a dick-- but he could only laugh. 

“You’re my new nemesis--kind of like what Mingyu and Jeonghan have going on.” 

Jihoon scoffed and managed to sit up, looking scrappier than before. “That sounds dumb. They’re just stupidly passive aggressive and annoying as hell.” 

“No, that’s pretty much just Jeonghan. But we can’t work together if we don’t resolve our mutual hatred,” Soonyoung glanced over at Jihoon, almost warily. 

“If we have petty fights every once in awhile, then our feelings won’t get in the way of missions.” 

He grinned at Jihoon expectantly. “What do you say, my bestest enemy?” 

Jihoon gave him a reproachful look filled with an incredible amount of bitter disgust. “Sure, whatever. Just get the fuck out,” 

 

 

Seokmin watched in stunned silence at seeing a disgruntled looking Jihoon shuffle through the bustling morning cafeteria. He looked as though he had fought a rabid bear and lost miserably. 

Jihoon nearly dropped his tray as it clattered noisily on the table. He met Seokmin’s wide eyes and snapped. 

“What are you looking at?”

Seokmin glanced around him, just to make sure that he wasn’t just seeing a ghost that was eerily similar to his teammate. 

“Geez, what happened to you?” Seungkwan sat down and gave Jihoon an unimpressed once over. “What, did you fight a pack of raccoons or something?”

A new presence halted by their table before Jihoon could open his mouth to speak. 

“Ah--yeah. That’s exactly what happened. I just happened to be there to see it, too!” 

Seokmin offered a sympathetic smile to Soonyoung, whose face was littered with small scratches and eyes filled with terror. 

When Seungkwan gave him a disbelieving look, Soonyoung proudly belted out an elaborate tale of hearing noises near daybreak, and then bravely finding Jihoon cowering on the floor and begging for assistance while he was being savagely attacked by wild raccoons. He speculated that they must have come from the attic. 

Joshua had appeared in the middle of the wild tale, a smile gracing his features. Jihoon gritted his teeth, and accidentally drove his fork into the table instead of his fruit bowl. 

“And they only went away after I bared my teeth at them and showed my dominance,” Soonyoung locked eyes with Jihoon. “Right, Jihoonie?” 

Jihoon’s eye twitched, but he nodded in response to the conclusion of Soonyoung’s ramble. 

Seokmin felt as though he were missing something as Seungkwan barely choked back his muffled laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~~ I’m sorry for how long this update took, end of year exams are coming up and I am strESSED. 
> 
> But, in a few weeks I’ll be out for summer break and I’ll be able to write so much more :) 
> 
> Thank you all again for reading(´∀｀)♡


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stood defensively before them. “You play for the wrong team. You’re a puppet,” 
> 
> Hansol shoved his way forward, “You’re a monster,”   
> A beam of ice shot from his palms, jutting into the man’s chest. Blood pooled from the wounds, but the stranger only coughed out a laugh as he fell to his knees. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning**   
> Mentions of gore and violence ahead

Seungcheol couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at seeing how stilted and awkward Mingyu’s interactions with Wonwoo had been in such a short span of time. 

Within only five minutes of making themselves comfortable at their usual table, Mingyu managed to knock his tray to the tiled floor, and then elbow Hansol’s food off the table while attempting to clean his own in a mild panic. 

Hansol watched his milk hit the floor with the eyes of a grieving man. Instead of checking on Hansol, however, his eyes had flitted briefly to the quiet figure sitting to Seungcheol’s left. 

How interesting. 

Seungcheol didn’t consider himself much of a gossip, but seeing as he had already involved himself in Jeonghan’s love concerns (it came from a good place), he failed to see a reason to stop himself from questioning Mingyu about it when given the chance. 

The man sat hunched over a water fountain that was unfortunately rather small for him. The water was pathetically spouting out and leaking in every direction possible, and Mingyu narrowly avoided a blast to the face. 

Seungcheol choked his laughter, and leaned casually against the textured wall, casually peeking at him through dark bangs. 

“Mingyu,” Seungcheol nodded at him in greeting. 

Mingyu quirked a brow after letting out a resigned sigh. “Seungcheol,” 

Seungcheol pretended to be disappointed with the fountain’s poor performance, crossing his arms in disdain. “Doesn’t seem like it’s working properly,” he huffed, “I guess I came over here for nothing.” 

Mingyu grinned at him and straightened his posture, peering at Seungcheol’s inquisitive glances. 

“Yeah, I guess you did. Anyway, can I catch up with you later? Chan wanted to have a dorm meeting about ‘proper bed attire’”. Mingyu sarcastically emphasized the last bit, making a show of annoyed gestures and furrowed brows. “I mean really, I can wear underwear to bed if I want to. He doesn’t have to single me out like this,” Mingyu seemed amusingly stressed as he fidgeted, casting paranoid looks towards Chan’s table. 

Seungcheol nodded sympathetically. “Right, right. Have you talked to anyone about this?” 

Mingyu seemed a bit confused as he replied, “...No? Just you. I didn’t think it was a big deal or anything,” 

Seungcheol widened his eyes and pat Mingyu on the shoulder. “It’s not, I just thought that maybe talking to some of the other guys might help a bit.” He lowered his voice and gestured to Hansol and Wonwoo, who were debating over ‘superior food condiments’. 

Seungcheol coughed into his hand, “Wonwoo seems like a good listener,” He casted the stoic man a brief look before continuing, “You could probably tell him anything.” 

Mingyu teetered back on forth on the soles of his feet in discomfort, and let out a small chuckle. “Yeah— yeah, I guess you could.” Mingyu’s eyes were trained on the floor beneath him rather solemnly. 

Seungcheol felt a pang of guilt, sharp in his chest. Whether or not something happened was none of his concern, even if his intentions weren’t exactly malicious. The last thing he wanted was any sort of tension within the group itself, it was bad enough that Mingyu and Jeonghan already despised one another. Those who worked together regularly could never manage to get anything done should they have harsh feelings directed towards each other. Regardless, Seungcheol doubted that anything life altering had occurred— and opted to just see how things played out. 

 

Seokmin was more interested in his food than the conversation taking place around him. Though he supposed that Seungkwan’s impressions were rather enjoyable. 

Namjoon was seated at a center table with five other men, a few of which Seokmin recognized. He was chuckling at their dramatized display of emotions; and it suddenly dawned of Seokmin that he didn’t seem to do that with anyone else. Namjoon stood and glanced over at their table’s direction, before slowly making his way over. 

Seokmin lightly tapped on Jihoon’s shoulder, gaze questioning. The other two groups were seated around them in close proximity, and so the murmurs and chatter among them slowly diminished when the approaching figure became known. 

Namjoon eyed them fondly, before taking a seat at one of the empty chairs next to Seungkwan. Seokmin was confident that he would have gone from table to table, but the other two remaining groups quieted— whether it was from intimidation or interest he wasn’t sure. 

Namjoon clearer his throat and leaned back, while Seungkwan nearly buckled beside him from nerves. 

“We have some unusual circumstances regarding all of you,” Namjoon kept his voice loud enough for the three groups to hear, but low enough to where any passerby wouldn’t be able to make out his words over the constant buzz in the cafeteria. He leaned forward on his palms, expression indecipherable. 

“For new recruits, the training process is typically months long. You’re an official agent once you’re requested for a job by a government worker.” Namjoon explained quickly, eyes darting in between them all in a silent hope to avoid any questions. 

Seokmin watched the man with baited breath. “As you all know, we have to keep up with paperwork and reports on a lot of things, including this place’s inhabitants and their progress. Even if we don’t know our full purpose, we still maintain contact with higher ups for our own safety and what little freedom we can acquire.” 

His voice was smooth and and persuasive, it would be easy to listen to his rambles indefinitely. However Namjoon seemed the slightest bit reluctant as he murmured, “And for a reason that is unknown to us, you’ve been requested for a mission. A serious one.” 

A solemn silence settled over them, the atmosphere suffocating. Seokmin could feel his chest tightening. “What does that mean? We haven’t been here long at all. Why would they request us—all of us?” 

Namjoon only gave him a steely look in reply to his questioning. “We don’t know. We have very, very limited knowledge as to why things play out the way they do. But we know that you, as of now, are going undercover.” 

Wonwoo quirked a brow, eyes narrowed. “Undercover? We’re the most inexperienced people here. Don’t these higher ups have any idea what they’re doing?” 

Namjoon coughed, arms crossed. “We’re well aware of your position—but for our own safety and yours, this is something we can’t refuse. What little freedom we have is still heaven compared to the lives we used to lead,” Namjoon’s eyes flickered briefly over them all. “—And so I’m asking you to get ready physically and mentally. This won’t be an easy task,” 

Jihoon snorted. “You’re asking us, but it doesn’t sound like there’s any room for debate, is there?” 

Namjoon only nodded at him in reply, ignoring his bitter tone. “I’ll meet you all back in the training room at 12:00. The walls are soundproof, so no one will be able to hear our conversation.”

He continued with a surprising flicker in his demeanor, as though he were anxious but rendered unwilling to reveal it. “And I would begin to pack your things. We should have spare suitcases in one of the storage rooms. Hoseok should be getting those for you now.” 

Junhui hesitantly raised his voice. “Wait, when are we leaving?” He had previously been leaning on his palm, seeming a bit lost in thought, distracted— but jerked upright in his seat at the sudden announcement. 

Namjoon didn’t blink as he muttered, “We leave at dawn. You have until our time in the training room to prepare yourselves.” 

Chan groaned into his hands. Seungcheol scowled at the wooden tables surface, eyes practically burning holes through it. Soonyoung was being repeatedly tapped by Minghao, since his fingers were gripping the table— and he was, currently, actually burning holes through it. 

Jeonghan huffed. “Dawns are supposed to be poetic and lovely. Now everything bad happens at dawn. First the forest and now this,”

Seungkwan nodded, exclaiming his agreements wholeheartedly. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all! I’m not made for lies, how could I ever go undercover?” 

Seokmin felt as though time was moving far too fast for his personal tastes. Namjoon bid them a brief farewell before Jimin came to usher them towards the storage rooms. 

Seokmin swallowed the doubts and worries that clogged his throat and made his head reel, and instead chose to listen for the sound of wild raccoons scurrying about. 

 

Seungkwan continued dragging Hansol down the bustling corridors despite his insistent “I’m fine” and “We should be packing,”. Seungkwan refused to humor him and instead resumed his brisk pace and important mission of checking the bandage that was covering the pink fleshy wound on his face. 

Seungkwan felt shame rush through veins at the memory that plagued his conscience. He had been so distraught that he was rendered completely and utterly useless to his closest friend outside of his own assigned group— and because of that, Hansol had been in pain longer than needed. Yongsun has gently explained that wounds that go through skin were much harder to heal than surface wounds, like bruises. And so Seungkwan has practiced working alongside her and treating the wounds others gained after the attack. 

Hansol’s wound is healing much faster than it would without Seungkwan’s help (and with Yongsun’s supervision), but he couldn’t shake the guilt that he just wasn’t doing quite enough. He was a healer, and he should be able to do his job properly. 

He found himself wishing that he could take the pain away from others instead of inflicting it onto them. 

Then again, in an ideal world Seungkwan wouldn’t have his powers to begin with. He’d still be with his sisters and Mom, leading a normal life. Thoughts like those plagued him, mocked the things always on the tip of his tongue but never said. 

Wishful thinking never got anything done though, so Seungkwan pushed his pesky insecurities away and prioritized what was sitting in front of him. 

The clinic smelled of cleaning products and chemicals Seungkwan didn’t know the name of. It was a clean place— but also small. The hospitals beds weren’t really beds, more like mattresses. Only one person could have an IV if needed, and even then they didn’t always have the needed materials. The best they could do was manage every person’s privacy with a curtain, and maintain their requests of hygiene kits and bandages. 

It was especially crowded given the previous attack, and Seungkwan found it hard to concentrate over the muffled sounds of those in pain. 

Seungkwan tenderly undid the cloth that covered Hansol’s wound. The latter complied, hands gripping the wrinkled sheets, a slight hiss escaping his lips. 

Seungkwan murmured an apology; to which Hansol waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

The flesh was still inflamed and reddened, and Seungkwan knew that it would leave an ugly scar— that much had been certain from the beginning. Hansol didn’t seem to mind, no matter how many times Seungkwan indulged him on the matter. 

“It could’ve been a lot worse,” His voice was hoarse, shaky. 

Seungkwan chewed his cheek in worry. “I know that,” 

Seungkwan gently grabbed the disinfectant and ignored the way his chest hurt when he looked at the injury on his friend’s face. 

Hansol offered a small, teasing smile. “You’re going to have to let me look at it eventually,” 

Seungkwan shook his head. “Not yet,” was the soft reply. 

Seungkwan pressed a rag to Hansol’s face, who flinched in response. He closed his eyes, the lack of complaints was something that Seungkwan found appalling. 

Hansol never did complain much. 

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes at the wound, breath evening. And it closed— if only a little. The pink rawness of it seemed to diminish— if only slightly. 

Still, Seungkwan wasn’t satisfied. When it came to those he cared about, he never would be. 

“I think that’s the best I can do for now,” The words left him with reluctance, and he was unable to hide the dissatisfaction that laced every syllable. 

Hansol smiled at him in appreciation, even if it must’ve hurt. “Thanks. Don’t look so disappointed— you’re doing great,” 

Seungkwan could only offer a half hearted smile, and a small laugh when Hansol made a ridiculous face. 

“You’re really something else. I don’t know anyone who would be doing that with such an injury on their face,” 

Hansol shrugged, and leaned his head onto Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I guess I’m special,” 

Seungkwan eyed him with fond exasperation. 

“I guess you’re special,” he agreed. 

 

Chan had managed to pack all the bare necessities that Namjoon had mentioned. Though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. Maybe it was just his mind giving him paranoid thoughts—or maybe Chan just couldn’t remember the last time he had left on a trip. Either way, it was inconvenient at best and causing him to lose his focus. 

Jeonghan cooed over him and ruffled his hair as they tiredly dragged themselves to the designated meeting point. Namjoon has failed to provide a lot of helpful information, even after they met in the training room. All Chan knew was that they were going to be divided into unusual groups based on individual talents, and that the overall goal was to reprimand three major gang figures— hence why they were being split into three different groups. 

The important mafia figures would be at an underground event known for gambling, drugs, prostitution— and many other very illegal activities. 

Chan swallowed his nerves and rejected Jeonghan’s request to let him address Chan as his ‘baby’. 

“I’m not your baby, Jeonghan.” Chan huffed and turned away from the elder. 

Jeonghan practically flung himself over Chan in mock hurt. “How could you say such a thing? As the youngest, you are my child—I don’t make the rules,” 

Chan scoffed and shoved him away. “I don’t make the rules either, so get away from me.” 

Jeonghan giggled and complied to his demand as Chan succumbed to the madness that was his life. 

Seungcheol seemed to have overheard a snippet of their conversation, because he decided it would be appropriate to give his own personal insight on the subject. “If anything, Chan is my child because I’m older than you,” 

Jeonghan stuck his tongue out. “I claimed him first! You’ll have to fight me for custody.” Jeonghan attempted to suffocate Chan in another hug, which he narrowly avoided. 

Chan pouted, “I’m not property! Can’t you both be more like Joshua? He never bothers me like you do,” 

Joshua perked up at the mention of his name, and teasingly held his arms open. Chan jumped into them and laughed, “Joshua! My favorite parent,” 

Joshua smirked and brushed Chan’s bangs out of his face. “Chan! My favorite child,” 

Seungcheol grinned, “We’ll see about that,”

Jeonghan held a hand against his chest. “Joshua, how could you betray me like this? I’m hurt,” 

Joshua smiled at him warmly, and beckoned with a hand to join him in smothering Chan— who processed what was about to take place far too late. Jeonghan reached around and squeezed Chan in between he and Joshua, mumbling something about family hugs and other disgustingly sappy nonsense. Seungcheol joined, but quickly stopped when he remembered his strength was probably going to make him leave bruises. When Chan could finally breathe again, Namjoon had arrived— and seemed ready to give them the remaining details regarding their mission. 

Namjoon shifted a bit, the slightest trace of reluctance detectable in the way he regarded them warily. Chan decided against questioning his behavior— ignorance was bliss, after all.

Namjoon cleared his throat, his voice low and throaty. “Your groups and targets are as follows— Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Jihoon, Minghao, and Seokmin. Your target is a known weapons manufacturer. Her real name is currently unknown, but she goes by Lisa.” He held up a faded photograph of a girl holding a gun aimed at the camera. Chan assumed that this picture had been hard to obtain for many dark, unpleasant reasons. 

Jihoon blinked. “A girl?” His voice was filled with blatant skepticism.

Namjoon scowled. “Don’t underestimate her. No one has managed to capture her, dead or alive.” 

Jeonghan quirked a brow. “And why are we expected to do so?” 

Namjoon couldn’t seem to muster an answer, so he continued with a brief glance in Jeonghan’s direction. “The next group is targeting one of the leading mafia heiresses, Kim Jisoo.” A delicate, picture perfect smile met their eyes. Her hair was dark and long, but there was a glint in her eyes that seemed unnatural. Her nails were manicured, clothes designer. 

Namjoon handed the photograph to Seungcheol. “Seungcheol, Mingyu, Soonyoung and Seungkwan. This is your target,” 

Seungcheol nodded his head thoughtfully. “She’s an heiress? Meaning that she is the daughter of a leader, correct?” 

Namjoon scoffed. “Well, yes— and I know what you’re thinking. Just because she’s the daughter doesn’t mean that she’s committed crimes herself, right?” Namjoon’s gaze hardened. “Wrong. She’s wanted for at least a dozen accounts of manslaughter.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened, and Seungcheol swallowed. “I see.” 

Namjoon’s piercing stare landed on the remaining few who had yet to be assigned a target. “The remainder of you are to go after a sniper duo, Jennie Kim and a girl known only by Rosé. It’s thought that they carry out tasks given by Jisoo, while being supplied by Lisa.” 

Namjoon gave them a bitter smile. “Joshua, Junhui, Hansol and Chan. Your intuitive abilities will come in handy with those who remain hidden.” 

Junhui grinned as his hands closed around the photo capturing a blur on two girls seated on the top of a looming building. 

Hansol spoke up. “How will we find them?” 

Yoongi opened the door, a malicious smile gracing his features. “Rumor has it that there’s an underground mafia business meeting going on across the country.” 

Jungkook pushed by him, looking evenly exhilarated. “All of you are taking the places of mafia members. You’ll be given fake IDs at the destination. We specifically chose those who were prestigious enough to attend, but not well known enough for others to know their faces.” 

Hoseok entered behind him, his usual smile reduced to a grim line. “We’ll be escorting you in groups of two and helping you escape. But we can’t assist or intervene with your assignment.” 

Jimin was last, His hesitance obvious in the way his saunter was slow and disingenuous. “Any questions?” 

“How are we to kill them with so many watching?” Wonwoo questioned quietly. 

Yoongi shrugged. “Improvise,” 

“Do we have to kill them?” Chan shifted in discomfort. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “That is your task. If it can’t be completed, you’ll answer to the government. Not us,” 

Hoseok glanced around the room in confusion. “Speaking of tasks; where is Taehyung?” 

The man burst through the door, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Sorry— I got caught up in sparring with Minho.” 

Namjoon heaved a sigh. “Alright. Get in your groups, and then we’ll meet up when we reach the city.” 

Seokmin blinked. “We’re not traveling together?” 

Jimin looked at him dubiously. “...There’s nineteen of us, traveling would look a bit suspicious, don’t you think?” 

Seokmin flushed a bit at that. “Right,” 

They parted with uneasy glances and unsaid goodbyes, comforted only by the silence that followed them. 

 

Minghao wasn’t sure how to feel about the situation at hand. Their superiors were acting as though after this mission, they would be parting permanently. Jungkook kept his typical icy demeanor, amused by violence and enjoying misery. But Minghao caught him exchanging looks filled with complicated feelings, something Taehyung mirrored rather well. 

It was a suffocating feeling, knowing that, despite the words of encouragement— you weren’t believed in.

Jeonghan had kept his mischievous tendencies to a minimum, instead focusing and absorbing the outside world of which he hasn’t seen since he was a young child. The bustling streets, the honks of cars and buses.

Jihoon was busy constantly taking notes, his curious eyes wandering to every object in sight, even the dirty alcohol bottle left in a dusty alleyway. 

Wonwoo seemed to be in his element, aware of how to act more so than anyone else. He pickpocketed and stole many things of value, despite some weak protests. He insisted that being in the mafia meant decorating yourself with “trivial, pretty things”. 

Seokmin made sure to stay in the middle of it all, something about “memories from when he was captured”. Wonwoo shared the sentiment, but was seemingly unbothered by it. 

Jungkook led them through crowded streets, while Taehyung watched them from the rear. “We’ll be the first ones there, given Tae’s godly persuasion.” 

Minghao silently mused that calling Taehyung’s ability “godly” was certainly a way to phrase things. The man’s face was absent of his usual smeared paint, deciding to blend in and avoid attracting unnecessary attention. 

Jungkook’s intimidating presence also helped their goal to avoid interaction as much as humanly possible, his sneer forcing people to back away and block their kids. 

“Oi, Jungkook! That’s her alleyway, isn’t it?” Taehyung’s excited voice could be heard, he was practically vibrating. 

Jungkook spared a look down the darkened path thoughtfully. “...It should be,” He turned to face his friend slowly, his grin somehow alarming. “Say, Tae— why don’t we pay a visit to an old friend?” 

Jihoon snorted from his spot next to Minghao. “We don’t have time for visits,” 

Jungkook’s smirk only grew. “Oh, believe me— we do for this one,” 

Jungkook nudged Minghao with his elbow, “Hey, scout the area; let us know if it’s clear.” 

Minghao sputtered in shock, “I don’t know what I’m scouting for,”   
Jungkook’s hand pressed into his shoulder. “Oh, you’ll know. Off with you now,” 

He shoved Minghao forward, much to his displeasure. Taehyung chastised Jungkook for his brute ways, but only received a grin in response.

Minghao was taken by a chill, and suddenly everything was blackened and comforting. The colors of the natural, light bathed world were replaced with night vision and pure instinct. 

Minghao moved alongside the wall, relief sweeping through his system at being in his element. There was a brick building with broken windows, the scent of something heavy flitting from inside. Glass and various liquids and powders littered the surrounding area. 

He entered cautiously, chest closing with alarm. 

There were multiple figures in cloaks surrounding candles, multiple leaves and crushed particles in bags. 

Minghao wasn’t naive, and he certainly wasn’t stupid.   
He walked straight into a drug den.

Minghao attempted to exit quicker than he came, but a pair of eyes rooted his feet to the floor. 

They were piercing and curious, she studied the space his shadow form occupied almost as though she could see him. 

When her hand reached out and brushed his frame, Minghao was forced to change back to his fleshy, human appearance. His heart rate increased, a stunned silence settling over him. 

She smiled. “Ah, so he’s here again.” She lowered her hood to reveal a gentle face framed with short hair. “Jungkook,” she called out for him tenderly, the way a mother would call a child. 

Jungkook came in only a few short beats later, followed by Taehyung and a rather hesitant crowd of familiar faces that mirrored his own confusion. 

“Jieun!” Jungkook was suddenly rather child like, clinging to the older woman with a bright, innocent smile. The woman (who was only older by a few years) ruffled his hair fondly. 

“How has my little brother been?” She cooed. 

Minghao blinked in startled confusion, and had to physically keep himself from double taking. 

Jungkook’s smile was shining and wide. “I’ve been well,” 

Taehyung draped himself across Jungkook’s back, a lazy grin on his face. “Hi,” 

Jieun pulled Taehyung in for a hug, much to his amusement. “It’s good to see you, Taehyung. Tell me, has Jungkook been treating you well?” 

Taehyung dramatically put his hand atop his forehead, as though he were ready to collapse. “He exhausts me, forcing me to do all his chores. It’s miserable,” 

Jungkook snorts and pokes jabs his sides, causing Taehyung to let out a shriek. 

Jeonghan watched the display with blatant disinterest. “Ah, how cute. But shouldn’t we continue to our destination?” 

Jihoon seemed to share Jeonghan’s sentiment. “We don’t need any drugs, so—” 

Jieun smacked Jungkook’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell them what I do?” 

Jungkook shifted guiltily while Taehyung merely giggled. “Let them think that we’ve come to get baked,” 

Jieun straightened herself and brushed the front of her clothes. “I’m Jieun, Jungkook’s older sister. I took care of him when he was little— I found him wandering the streets,” 

Minghao thought that the story was very touching and all, but that didn’t explain the suspicious leaves scattered everywhere that made him fidgety and unnerved. Yes, there were worse things than drugs, but Minghao hadn’t seen anything like this before. He assumed it was hardcore, homemade things that were invented during his time outcasted from society. 

Jieun brushed her hair out of her face, “I make medicine designed specifically for people with abilities. This isn’t a drug den,” She smiled pointedly at Jihoon. 

Wonwoo studied the various plastic baggies closely. “How are you not found?” 

Minghao nodded, “And how did you make me visible?” 

Seokmin, who had been observing in uncharacteristic silence, finally spoke up. “She made you visible?” 

Jieun smiled softly. “Ah. I can see what others can’t, that’s my gift. I can make you seen as well.” She continued by demonstrating a gentle touch of Jungkook’s shoulder, causing him to seemingly evaporate. “I can also hide things. This warehouse is hidden away from those who don’t have a similar ability to mine.” 

Minghao turned to face his companions, “They couldn’t see the entrance?” 

It was Wonwoo that answered. “That’s why Jungkook sent you instead of going himself—though, he could of sent us both,” 

Seokmin had relaxed since the revelation that they weren’t in fact in the middle of a bunch of hallucinatory substances. 

Those in cloaks watched on fondly, but didn’t interrupt. Minghao found that to be a bit curious, but thought better of remarking on it. 

Jieun passed a small bag containing medicines for the remainder of their journey, and forced Jungkook to promise that he would return when he could. 

As they left, Minghao slowed his pace to walk closer to Taehyung. As though he sensed his inquiries, Taehyung lowly murmured, “They were separated for awhile when Jungkook was captured. The medicine business had just been a word of mouth kind of thing before he came back for her,” 

Minghao nodded thoughtfully and opened his mouth to speak before Taehyung beat him to it. 

“Why doesn’t she live with us?” Minghao smiled at him and shook his head. “She doesn’t trust the government, and I don’t blame her. After all, she can’t forgive the people who hurt her brother. And just between you and me,” Taehyung whispered softly, “That was the first time he’s seen her in two years.” 

Minghao must had been visibly confused, because Taehyung giggled. “They didn’t act like it, right? But I guess to them, they’re always together.” 

“As long as both know the other is safe, distance will never be an issue.”

 

Junhui pulled his hoodie tighter around his frame, the bustling streets and flashing lights unnerving and rather distracting. Joshua seemed to feel similar, meekly glancing around and blinking rapidly. Junhui supposed that given his empathy, Joshua must be in a bit of a daze. He couldn’t blame him, Junhui kept getting minor visions, small bits of knowledge about people who were no longer able to stay in the physical world. 

It made him feel a twinge of discomfort, and Junhui tried to push it away. As a child, he relished the feeling— but now it was burdensome, unwanted. How violating would it seem to his comrades if they knew of his knowledge about the dead?

Joshua knew feelings, thoughts. Junhui knew spirits, darkness. 

And so he kept it to himself. 

Still, between Chan’s gawking and Hansol’s constant questioning of if he could stop to study things their progress was relatively slow. 

Hoseok scratched his head. “We’re trying to keep a low profile. Just hang tight until we get on public transport, okay?” 

Junhui blinked. “If we’re trying to lay low, why go on public transport?” 

It was Namjoon who answered, “We’ll blend with the crowd. Should something occur and the police are notified, a taxi driver will most likely remember us in more detail than any crowd of people. Hiding in plain sight is key,” 

Hansol smiled wryly. “An incident? Do you not trust us?” 

Hoseok and Namjoon exchanged glances. 

Joshua seemed mildly out there, with glossy eyes and a blank expression. However he was their only means of knowing how exactly their two seniors were feeling, and so Chan tapped him lightly. 

Joshua was still focused on a particularly blinding streetlight as he replied a distant, “Yes?” 

Chan gave him a questioning look, but chose not to comment on Joshua’s behavior. “What are they thinking, do you know?” 

Joshua blinked a bit, drawing his eyes away from the ugly yellow in order to look at in between Chan and Junhui. “Sorry, what?” 

The corners of Hansol’s lips turned down, and he placed a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “You okay? You’re kinda out of it,” 

Joshua nodded and smiled in embarrassment. “Yoongi taught me to disassociate when I’m getting overwhelmed. Just kind of ‘tap out of everything’—that’s how he described it,” 

Chan sighed in exasperation, while Hansol grinned fondly. 

Junhui felt his lips tugging upward. “Give us a warning next time,” 

Joshua rubbed his neck. “Will do,” His haze focused on the backs of Namjoon and Hoseok, who count hear their lowered voices over the sheer volume of the city despite their close proximity. “You needed me to read them?” 

Junhui wrapped arm around Joshua, quietly explaining about the police and public suspicions. He nodded, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration. 

“Well, they’re not telling us something. That much is obvious,” 

“How can you tell?” Hansol seemed mildly surprised as he chewed the inside of his cheek. 

Joshua shrugged. “You said they didn’t answer your question directly. They’re both cautious, but there’s something else. It’s like…” He held out his hands, grasping at the words he needed for a proper explanation. “I saw something pretty vague for a moment there. I don’t recall the setting, but the shock and confusion was overwhelming. But not for them,” His eyes watched the two figures in front of them with a strange kind of knowing, it was the type of look most would dread. 

Chan bit his lip. “So something bad is going to happen before we even start our mission?” Concern and doubt laced his words. 

Joshua pressed a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “The future can always be changed. And this was more like… remembering a dream than it was a true vision. It was hazy and hard to decipher— I only got a glimpse of it,” 

A woman hastily bumped by them, nearly causing Junhui to topple over. He spoke after regaining his composure. “How did you get all that from a few seconds?” 

Joshua smiled coyly. “I knew the feelings more than I knew what I was seeing. But a magician never reveals his secrets,” 

Chan punched him. “You’re the worst! Your gift is so cool and you won’t even tell us about it!” He pouted and shoved Junhui to create a wall to guard him from Joshua’s all knowing smile. 

Namjoon turned around and stepped closer to the four, his demeanor calmed. “We’re getting on the train now—I expect the best from you. We’ll reach our destination soon enough, alright?” 

Junhui could feel something bubbling up inside him once again. Warmth, laughter, memories that didn’t belong to him. 

As soon as Namjoon jerkily stepped away, the emotions sunk as fast as they had surfaced— leaving Junhui to himself once more.

‘I don’t know who you are, but I can’t help you. I’m sorry. It’s not my job to help the dead disturb the living,’ 

Hansol tugged on his arm as they boarded the train, hoods up and faces hidden behind health masks. 

As the doors closed, Hoseok herded them to a place nearest to the front, where they would be able to exit easily and safely. 

A pair of eyes watched them, curiosity piqued and gaze unwavering. 

Junhui must have terrible luck, or maybe fate was sick of his cowardly avoidance, because he and Namjoon were forced next to one another— hands gripping the steel pole in front of them. 

Spirits were shells of their former hosts, a house for forgotten memories and unfulfilled wishes and regrets. Junhui has dealt with many of them, especially in the facility. Abnormals who had died at the hands of their captors, victims of human experimentation. They haunted him, used him as a means for their fury. 

Spirits didn’t have the emotional range of a living human. They were shells of sorrow, grief, rage— confusion. 

Junhui couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the lack of logic, the lack of understanding, because— 

Because he couldn’t help them. 

And just because a spirit with a particularly strong will won’t cease to leave him alone, he’s forced to recall information that is rather useless to Junhui at the moment. 

Smiles. Laughter. Comfort. Worry. Death. Anguish. 

Echoes of screams and bloodstains, of gunshots and grief. The sheer familiarity of it made his hands tremble.

This spirit had died in a raid, much like the one experienced only nights before. 

Junhui swallowed harshly. 

The spirit also had an extreme emotional connection to the man standing on his left side, gaze distrusting as he surveyed the train’s inhabitants. 

And as the memories came in and out, sending Junhui reeling with every breath, with every second that passed— a single name involuntarily left his lips. 

“Seokjin,” He whispered. 

Namjoon jerked next to him, almost as though he was wounded. 

His eyes surveyed Junhui dubiously, eyes wide with confused disbelief. He inhaled a shaky breath, “...Did you say something?” 

Junhui coughed into the crook of his elbow. “Ah—no, no. It’s nothing,” He sputtered aimlessly. 

Namjoon shifted away from him, brows furrowed. 

They both knew he was lying. 

Hoseok and Namjoon had their forms covered, a sanitary mask attempting to hide their identities. The rest weren’t known, and so hiding themselves wasn’t as difficult a task. 

Namjoon was preparing himself to speak when the train jolted suddenly, sending passengers reeling. 

People let out startled screams as the subway jerked to the side, causing many standing passengers to be thrown to the floor. 

Hansol toppled into Chan, sending them both sprawling. Hoseok outstretched his hand before a horrifying screeching tore his eyes to where a woman was pointing towards the window. 

The train’s metals shrieked as it flipped over uselessly. Glass shattered as mothers held their children close, wailing in despair. 

“Fuck— Hoseok!” Namjoon shouted against the noise, only seconds away from tragedy. 

A barrier held them in place as dust and mechanic parts flew into civilians, blood spattering onto the floor. Hoseok gritted his teeth, his gift the only thing keeping them together in the chaos. 

Sirens cried in the distance. Junhui couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. 

He could feel himself shaking, words dried in his throat as his eyes fell upon the dead— adults and children alike. 

There was the hopeless weeping of the living and injured, begging for assistance. 

Begging for a miracle.

Namjoon swallowed thickly. “We need—” his voice wavered. “We need to go. Now.” 

“Ch-Chan!” Hansol shouted, frantic. Junhui followed his eyes to see the man’s form slumped against what was left of a chair, unconscious. Maroon pooled around him. 

“I tried to hold on to him, I tried, I—” Hansol buried his face in his hands. 

Joshua crawled over to him, only to be halted by Hoseok’s hand on his shoulder. The train was lopsided and damaged, dangerous to navigate. Hoseok carefully made his way over to Chan, and cautiously lifted his frame over his shoulder.

Below Chan was a man who had been gruesomely impaled, eyes wide and unseeing. Junhui felt a wave of nausea run through him, knees weakening. The urge to vomit was overwhelming. 

Chan’s injuries were unknown aside from a wound to his forehead, which was inflamed and bloody. 

Hansol practically cried with relief. Joshua held his hands over his ears, most likely an attempt to block out the groans of those in pain. 

Or maybe the sorrows coming from them. 

Namjoon’s eyes were cloudy and indecipherable. “We have to leave now. First responders will be getting here soon and we can’t afford to be the only ones standing,” 

“We have to do something,” Junhui’s protest was weak and empty, the reality before him unable to be accepted. 

Hoseok shared his sympathy, but only shook his head in response. 

There was a sudden whirring in the air, as a bar of jagged steel rushed by Junhui’s face— causing a streak of red to burst forth. 

He tensed just as suddenly as Namjoon growled and whipped around, a bitter sneer crossing his features. 

“I knew it,” A masked person stood, venom lacing their words. “You’re abnormals. The kind that work for the people,” 

Hansol gently took Chan off of Hoseok’s shoulders, enabling him to fight. He laid the boy next to Joshua, who was fighting against Hansol’s grip. “I want to help— let me help,” 

Another rod was sent flying towards them. Namjoon smacked it away with a hardened hand. “You did this,” 

Junhui felt sick. Someone like them— someone who had been sitting next to the very same passengers that lay slaughtered on the ground. 

They stood defensively before them. “You play for the wrong team. You’re a puppet,” 

Hansol shoved his way forward, “You’re a monster,”   
A beam of ice shot from his palms, jutting into the man’s chest. Blood pooled from the wounds, but the stranger only coughed out a laugh as he fell to his knees. 

“I’ll die a martyr. You’ll all die traitors to your own damn kind,” He hissed. 

Heaps of steel and sharpened metal came towards them, only to be met with Namjoon. He flung the man to the side, snapping his neck without hesitation. 

Junhui could feel bile burning his throat. He could feel the spirits of the dead floating in confusion and despair around them, the fact that they had passed not registering. 

Those who were still alive screamed and crawled backwards. Namjoon shifted back to his primary form and tugged on Junhui’s arm, beckoning him to follow. 

The sirens grew louder still, and the frightened murmurs of the survivors did just as well. 

Hansol froze a window, chilling the temperature effectively. He kicked viciously, glass shards falling noisily to the stained floor. 

A woman near the back shrieked. “You’re demons! All of you!” 

She sobbed brokenly. “You killed my son!” 

Junhui could feel his tears falling down his cheeks. Namjoon pushed him forward, grip sturdy. 

They ran into the chilled night, horrified and dazed. Junhui could feel his throat constricting, unable to catch his breath. 

Hansol insisted on carrying Chan, who still had yet to awaken. He had yet to break down, but something in the way he spoke reflected emptiness. 

Joshua’s tears had yet to stop, but he silenced his whimpers by biting his lip. His attempts at disassociation seemed to be undermined by his own state of grief. 

Hoseok led them forward silently, navigating through alleyways and back roads in order to avoid any clusters of people. 

It was only when they stopped to rest for the night behind an old abandoned shoe factory that the silence was finally broken. 

“...Are you alright?” Namjoon murmured.

Junhui could feel hatred overriding his senses. “Why?” 

He whispered, “Why do they make us monsters?” 

“Some people blame the world and everything in it.” It was only then that Junhui realized that Namjoon was shaking, eyes reddened and cheeks swollen. 

“And we can’t stop them.” 

Hoseok stirred, his face having been surrendered to his knees. 

Hansol had long fallen asleep with Chan tucked into his side. Joshua had simply fainted from overstimulation, a fever currently keeping him burning. 

“Does it ever get easier?” Junhui fought back his tears, unwilling to worsen his red rimmed eyes. 

Namjoon hesitated, and for the first time he thought he saw weakness in the way the man leaned against the chipped brick wall. 

“No,” He croaked. “No, it doesn’t.” 

Junhui clenched his fists. 

He didn’t know why he was fighting anymore. 

 

Soonyoung watched in absolute dismay as Mingyu (the lanky bastard) smuggled yet another bag of a cheesy name brand snack under his poofy jacket (curtesy of Jimin). He scoffed under his breath, “If Yoongi sees you you’re dead,” A smirk graced his lips. 

Mingyu grinned back at him toothily, strangely exhilarated. “I’ve never had any of these before— and there’s no way he’ll buy them all for me!” His words faded to a pout, before he pocketed some gummy worms. 

The convenience store was open twenty four hours, which was lucky considering their current situation. The other two groups should have already arrived at their meeting point; meanwhile their group had the misfortune of multiple missed buses and the constant questioning of when they would eat their next meal. 

Yoongi had finally given in to their demands and subsequently decided to allow them to poison their systems to their heart’s content. In other words, two snacks per person. 

Mingyu was not obiding by that rule. 

Seungkwan was drinking some kind of organic fruit drink— though Soonyoung doubted anything from a gas station could be considered organic, down to the damn produce. 

Though he had to admit that the idea of eating all of these foods excited him more than it should. Having grown up in a poor, isolated area— he hadn’t had access to sugary, cheesy resources. And so he kept quiet and watched in silent amusement as Mingyu slowly became more and more inflated.

Seungcheol (being the former gym rat that he was) didn’t seem entirely eager to binge on a ridiculous amount of food. Or at least that was his story until he laid eyes on the spicy ramen, and suddenly he decided that their mission technically didn’t start until they had all met up again, leaving the man to his own devices. 

Jimin and Yoongi waited for them at the counter, where a middle aged man with bags under his eyes was leaned over the counter lazily—only kept awake by the energy drink to his left. In fact, Soonyoung avoided making eye contact— he seemed to blame them for not allowing him a peaceful slumber on the job. 

It was dark and stormy outside, and Jimin mentioned that if they hurried they would be able to make it to the city within the hour. 

The gas station they currently inhabited was the type of shady place that could probably afford to have video surveillance, but didn’t because the amount of crimes that occurred were better left undocumented. Or at that least that was the impression it gave off, what with the flickering lights and dried grease stains. 

Seungkwan coughed into his shoulder, “Mingyu put them back,” in regards to the man’s somewhat marshmallow looking appearance. He declined by shaking his head, causing the bags he stored to shake noisily. 

“Yo, are you kids almost done? We’re going to get stormed in,” Yoongi called out to them halfheartedly, his usual apathetic demeanor replaced with a more impatient one. Soonyoung couldn’t blame him— they were running out of time. 

Seungkwan appeared at the register first, all smiles as the empty eyed employee scanned his drink and blueberry muffin with little enthusiasm. 

Seungcheol followed, spicy ramen and a box of protein bars clutched in his hands with hardly contained jubilance. 

Soonyoung himself craved something sweet to balance the bitter chaotic mess that his life had become, and happily placed a chocolate bar and some tangy candy on the chipped counter top with a sense of satisfaction. 

And then came Mingyu. 

He hobbled over to the checkout clumsily and Soonyoung swore he heard the floors creak from the sheer amount of snacks the man had attempted to conceal under his jacket. 

Jimin looked on in what was supposed to be masked confusion, and Yoongi’s deadpan dropped if only for a moment. 

Mingyu slid two granola bars across the counter, just for a sense of realism. 

The cashier looked him up and down, “...would that be all?” He drawled, eyes glancing over to Yoongi and Jimin, who were both excellent at pretending to be completely oblivious. 

Mingyu nodded eagerly. “Yep,” 

Something moved inside his jacket. 

Soonyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks. Seungcheol was cautiously backing towards the soda machine that loomed in the corner of the small space. 

The employee’s tone shifted, irritation evident. “Sir, I need you to place all the items on the counter.” He gestured to Mingyu dubiously. 

Mingyu glared back evenly. “I put the granola bars on the counter,” 

Yoongi seemed to be preparing for the worst. Jimin watched with wide, frozen eyes. 

The man scoffed. “I’m not an idiot,” He seethed. “Let me ring the items or I can’t serve you,” 

Seungkwan interjected, “Are you implying that your customer is dishonest?” He examined his nails, “That seems like questionable service if you ask me,” 

The man sneered. “Look at him. You all must think I’m a real clown, huh?” He straightened, “I don’t give a shit if it’s three in the morning. Give me the items or you can’t purchase anything,” 

Soonyoung gasped dramatically, hand placed on his chest in disbelief. “Sir, are you swearing at your customer? Unbelievable. I demand to speak to your manager,” 

Seungcheol edged closer to the machine, eyes shining in what could only be pure evil. 

The man sighed, patience running thinner with every word spoken. “I’m the only one here. Give me the items so you can pay,” 

Mingyu spoke, words sharp with offense. “You must be seeing things. Take some time off work tomorrow, okay? But for now, please ring up our purchases,” 

The man reached across the counter and squeezed Mingyu’s jacket.

The room fell still and time seemed to slow. 

A single bag fell out. And then another. And another. 

And suddenly a flood of snacks were hitting the floor. 

Mingyu’s panicked “Ho-how did that get there?” Was cut short when Seungcheol heaved the soda machine and tossed it to the back end of the store. 

The employee screamed and ran out from behind the counter, tripping over his own legs and sending things flying as he crashed into shelf upon shelf in an attempt to get to the most expensive machine in the worn down store. 

“Run! Run you sons of bitches, run!” Seungcheol helped Mingyu gather all of his fallen snacks while Soonyoung and Seungkwan hastily stashed their unpurchased counter food in their pockets. 

Yoongi had to pull Mingyu away from the barbecue chips that had spilled onto the cluttered floor, “Come on you little shit,” 

Jimin being the genius that he is, also grabbed one of the mini baskets used for shopping in order to make their get away much easier. 

They left the convenience store in a state of utter disarray. The soda machine spewed liquids in all directions— shelves lay helpless on the floor, the food which it had contained spilled uselessly. The employee sat in a state of shock, realizing that no one would ever believe what had just taken place. 

The things people do for minimum wage. 

 

It was just when dawn was rising over the city that the six finally arrived at a hotel run by a man who owned Namjoon a favor. 

“Jackson and Namjoon go back awhile. One of his first assignments I think,” Yoongi gave a brief explanation when he was sent looks of confusion when they were led to the front of a nice looking resort. 

“It’s not the type of you place you’d find people doing something illegal,” Soonyoung murmured. 

Jimin smiled at him. “That’s exactly why we’re here. For now, get some rest. We’ll check in with you at seven tonight— we leave at ten sharp.” 

Yoongi and Jimin received only one room key for themselves, and had to hastily explain the rooming arrangements so as not to delay rest any longer. 

“This kind of thing is unusual for a hotel. We’re posing as workers under Jackson Wang, at least under this roof. You have rooms of two so as not to cause suspicion— large groups of people always attract attention.” Yoongi seemed far too exhausted to provide any additional information, and bluntly told them their each respective room number. 

Seungkwan frowned. “We’ll have to wake our roommate?” 

Jimin nodded and offered a sympathetic hair ruffle, before following his comrade into the elevator. 

Soonyoung hesitantly took the stairs since his room was on the second floor. His hand hovered over the door as he sent a silent prayer that his roommate was a light sleeper. He would rather not have to knock more than once— disturbing the other inhabitants was the opposite of staying under the radar as they had been instructed. 

He knocked briefly, cringing and sucking in a rushed breath. 

There was the slightest stirring coming from inside, and slurred mumbled before the door was cracked open unceremoniously. “Who the fuck—” 

Jihoon glared at him reproachfully. “Of course. Of course it’s you. Who else would it be?” 

Soonyoung his hands up in surrender. “I had nothing to do with this,” 

Jihoon parted away from the door. “You’re lucky Wonwoo is here, otherwise I might kill you in your sleep.” 

Said man was awkwardly taking up the bed, light snores escaping parted lips. 

Jihoon snorted. “I couldn’t wake the oaf for the life of me,” he settled back under the covers softly, hair ruffled and clothes unkempt. “Well, have fun moving him.” 

Soonyoung gestured to Wonwoo with an exasperated whisper scream. “How can I move him? He’s a giant. He takes up the whole bed!” 

Soonyoung couldn’t see Jihoon very well given the darkness, but he imagined the boy was scowling, as he did most of the time when Soonyoung was around. “You are not sleeping in my bed,” 

Soonyoung snorted. “Like I’d want to. I just don’t see any other option,” 

Jihoon threw a pillow in his general direction, which landed on the floor near the far side of the wall. “You could set fire to the bed in your sleep or something,” 

Soonyoung crossed his arms in offense. “That’s not how that works!” 

Soonyoung could tell just by the sound of his smug voice that Jihoon was smirking. “Really? Because Wonwoo turns invisible when he sleeps sometimes,” There was a small shuffling movement, “—so you won’t even know he’s there,” 

Soonyoung angrily threw on his bed attire (in the dark, mind you) and then whipped around to confront that of which he couldn’t see. “Listen here, Satan. I refuse to suffer all night at the hands of you and your little Satan schemes,” 

Jihoon lowered his voice. “You haven’t seen suffering yet. And who are you calling Satan? You’re the one who can control fire,” 

Soonyoung whipped around, blindly stumbling in a vague attempt to find the bed. “I’m going to send you back to where you belong, Sata—”

Soonyoung hissed in pain as his foot collided with someone’s luggage (most likely Jihoon’s) causing him to trip forward.

He landed on soft blankets and pillows that made his breathing soften and even out calmly. 

He also landed on something warm, solid, and fleshy. “Get off!” Jihoon shoved him backwards. 

“Put a shirt on, you pervert!” Jihoon seethed. 

Soonyoung laughed. “Who wears a shirt to bed?” His limbs flailed as he felt around the sheets. 

“What are you feeling around for, you perverted idiot?” Jihoon shuffled backwards. 

“Pillows, obviously. I’m making a wall,” Soonyoung found a pillow and tugged, only to send Jihoon into the walk with a thud. 

Soonyoung couldn’t contain his giggles. But, Jihoon being as stubborn as he was— flung himself at Soonyoung in a mess of limbs, blindly punching in hardly contained frustration. 

It didn’t hurt, though. And if Soonyoung listened hard enough, he might hear breathy laughter. 

But probably not. 

Jihoon assisted him in making a plush, comfy pillow division between them. He then sighed and rolled to the side, stealing some of the covers. 

Soonyoung’s naturally high body temperature kept him warm despite the lack of coziness. He could have picked a fight if he were in a pettier, more energetic mood. But fatigue was clinging to blurry eyesight and (to put it eloquently) Soonyoung simply couldn’t be fucked to do so. 

Despite this, there was still anxiety flowing through his system and keeping him awake. 

He didn’t know what to expect if they failed. He didn’t know what to expect if they didn’t. 

More importantly, what if they lost someone? What if their cover was blown?

There was too much at risk. 

It was all too much. 

“Stop worrying, dummy. I can hear you all the way over here,” Jihoon grumbled. 

“...Besides, worrying isn’t going to change anything. So go to sleep already,” Jihoon spoke in a weirdly lighthearted manner. Even so, Soonyoung could hear the fear in his words. 

Jihoon ran away from his problems. He didn’t confront what needed to be confronted, and instead caused needless bickering. He was short and filled with anger. And yet, he was also unsure of himself. Of his talents. He had a secret workshop back at the facility. He was a genius, but didn’t seem to believe in himself. He was overly critical of his capabilities and others alike, and was everything that infuriated Soonyoung to the point of childish fist fights. 

He hated Lee Jihoon. He was a coward and a hypocrite. He hated him. 

So it doesn’t matter that he heard him laugh, or that he tried to comfort him. It doesn’t matter that when Jihoon shoved and hit him just moments before, that it was lacking menace and instead playful. 

It doesn’t matter because they hate each other.   
It doesn’t matter because Jihoon hates him. 

Soonyoung closed his eyes. 

Some people just aren’t made for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m sorry for this update taking so long ;-; I had a big planning process for this one, because a lot of things in the upcoming chapters will come into play more towards the end of the series. Feedback is highly appreciated! Thank you all so much for reading (。'▽'。)♡


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes narrowed as she grinned— was it in victory? Jeonghan wasn’t so sure. The men that had crowded their table stood, hovering like vultures. It was then that Jeonghan realized that multiple groups of men stood near his friends, alert. Peering at them with hungry expressions. 
> 
> They watched with anticipation. Just what exactly were they anticipating?
> 
> Jeonghan could feel his heart pounding. 
> 
> They had walked right into a set up.

Jihoon was only barely aware of his heavy limbs and early morning stirs— he still held that primal urge to garner as much sleep as humanly possible, and so he resented any further thoughts or movements. 

This only lasted for a few blissful moments though, because the bed around him moved in a way that Jihoon knew hadn’t been caused by him. 

Vague memories of pillows and late night knocking surfaced, causing Jihoon to groan as he peeled his eyes open. Early morning light filtered through the curtains that faced his back. Jihoon had slept towards the wall, hoping that the pillows Soonyoung had put into place would be enough separation for the both of them to sleep peacefully.  
They had been very, very incorrect. 

Jihoon was painfully aware of the suffocating presence that enveloped him, an arm splayed across his chest, pulling him closer to his supposed enemy. Legs tangled in his. Soonyoung was snoring lightly, the fact that he was so oblivious to their current predicament absolutely infuriating. 

Jihoon felt his stomach drop and his heart enter his throat. His face was flushing with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t name. Jihoon struggled to inch away from the touchy man, but it was in vain. It was impossible to restrain Soonyoung without waking him, and Jihoon wasn’t yet ready to succumb to such a level of humiliation. 

It was then that he realized the other presence besides them that had occupied the room last night— the door opened and closed softly. Wonwoo entered quietly, so as not to disturb whatever was currently taking place. 

Jihoon only barely managed to maneuver himself in such a way that he could get Wonwoo’s attention. His eyes met Jihoon’s, and a gentle smirk graced his lips.

“Sleep well?” Wonwoo contentedly drank from his coffee cup at the small dining table, a single eyebrow arched. There was a book open in front of him— it seemed as though he had been awake for some time, and enjoyed those benefits thoroughly. 

Jihoon glared at him. “Help me,” He hissed through gritted teeth. 

Wonwoo scanned the page’s text, disinterested. His eyes flickered to Jihoon, and he barely hid his grin behind the book’s cover. “Why should I? You were just fine when I left,” 

Jihoon could feel every slight move made by Soonyoung, every inhale, every sleepy grunt. It was far too intimate a moment for two mortal enemies to be sharing. “You have to get him off of me before he wakes up,” Jihoon was certainly not a beggar, but for these circumstances— he just might become one. 

“You didn’t really think anyone believed the raccoon story, did you?” Wonwoo leaned forward with wide, mocking eyes. “I wouldn’t have guessed you just left to have some alone time, though. Soonyoung must be fun,” Wonwoo didn’t bother to hide his amusement, nor did he lower his voice in the slightest. “You were both rather disheveled that morning,”

Jihoon felt a sudden wave of flutters go off in his stomach. Ugh, sickening. He scowled, “It’s not like that and you know it! I can’t stand him,” 

Wonwoo didn’t seem as convinced. “Oh? He seems to like you a lot, though,” He gestured lazily to Soonyoung, who still clutched Jihoon in an iron grasp. 

Jihoon felt like he was being set on fire. “I’ll do anything— just get him away from me,” 

Wonwoo’s curiosity was piqued. “So then you’ll tell me what really happened that night?” His hand stilled. 

Jihoon swallowed. Wonwoo was observant, reluctant to leave stones unturned. Jihoon hadn’t been entirely truthful with Soonyoung on what he was studying, but he had been convincing enough. Wonwoo would want details, explanations. 

And at the moment, Jihoon had none to give him. 

Wonwoo studied Jihoon’s expression carefully. Damn him, Jihoon didn’t enjoy being evaluated. 

“...Okay,” Jihoon replied slowly. “I’ll tell you once the mission is over,” 

Wonwoo nodded. “Is that a promise?” 

Jihoon rolled his eyes, sarcasm filling his voice. “Sure, whatever.” 

Wonwoo stood up gracefully, satisfied. He then carefully stalked over to their bedside, where Soonyoung had Jihoon smothered. 

He then proceeded to not to so discreetly pull Soonyoung backwards onto the floor. He landed roughly, jerking awake on impact. 

He first looked at Wonwoo, who smiled mischievously— and then at Jihoon, whose hair was messy and face a burning shade of pink. He seethed quietly at the unbothered man, who had taken a seat at the table he claimed. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung grumbled and rubbed his head as he stood. “That was violent, Wonwoo— just wake me next time,”

He peered jokingly at Jihoon. “Or did he make you? You shouldn’t let his anger phase you—Jihoon is just a meanie,” 

Jihoon angrily stomped towards the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower. See you asshats in ten,” The door slammed, nearly off its hinges. 

Soonyoung blinked. “Not a morning person, is he?” He sat across from Wonwoo, who smiled all too knowingly. “Why’d you wake me like that?” 

Wonwoo shrugged. “It was nothing— I was just worried that with the way you were holding onto him, Jihoon might get suffocated,” He stared at Soonyoung over his mug. 

Soonyoung felt his throat dry. “That’s funny,” he laughed weakly, “It almost sounds like you’re trying to say I cuddled him,” 

Wonwoo grinned devilishly. 

Soonyoung fell quiet, his sarcastic smile slackening. 

And then his hair ignited. 

In a panic, Soonyoung shrieked and pounded on the bathroom door. Wonwoo spit his coffee all over the table, choking on his laughter. He threw his head back, only slightly grieved over his now stained book. 

Jihoon screamed for Soonyoung to get away, but he eventually kicked the door in and dunked his head under the sink. Jihoon chucked multiple shampoo bottles in his direction, “What the fuck are you doing!” 

Soonyoung yelled back just as fiercely, “If my hair touched anything the hotel would be in flames! I just saved your life, you should be thanking me!” 

Jihoon whipped around furiously, only to slip and fall backwards. In his surprise, he pulled the shower curtain down with him. 

Soonyoung clutched his stomach, not bothering to hide his laughter. “Serves you right!—”

The shower curtain was violently sent in his direction, knocking him out of the bathroom. Jihoon must have used his time manipulation to slam the door shut again. 

Wonwoo gripped the table, giggling madly. He quite enjoyed their show of affection. 

Soonyoung screamed more profanities before Jungkook kicked the door open and asked what the hell was wrong with all of them.

Wonwoo could only burst into laughter once more at the sight of steam coming off Soonyoung’s head— better yet, thinking of the embarrassment that caused it. 

Soonyoung could only swallow his pride and stuffed a muffin into his face as both his hair and pride recovered. 

 

Mingyu had been sleepless, facing the nightmares that plagued him was never something he was able to accomplish. 

He was usually kept awake with memories of torture and loneliness. Mingyu hadn’t ever known comfort or sympathy— and so offering it was nearly impossible. He had been alarmed when the others had reprimanded him for injuring Joshua, after all, to be feared meant to be left alone— right? It was empowering.  
It was the adrenaline that pumped through his veins, the way he felt that all was in his control when he used his ability. 

When he had seen Joshua protect Chan, it triggered a seething sense of envy of Mingyu didn’t know he had inside of him. He wanted to understand why— why was the need to be so selfless engraved in him? After all the suffering, the pain— 

Why bother looking after anyone except yourself? 

And Jeonghan.  
How had he taken a liking to Joshua so quickly? Better yet, why bother? Looking after someone else was so tiring, so much work. And it only made you suffer more. If this was Mingyu’s life, then he would look after himself and no one else. 

For his entire life, Mingyu only had himself. There were no friends, no family. There were no words of comfort or care. It was just Mingyu, Mingyu and his own personal world of hell. 

Mingyu wasn’t sure how to care for anyone besides himself, seeing as he could barely manage that alone. He wasn’t sure of his feelings towards his comrades, they were foreign. Unfamiliar. 

And so when Wonwoo has found him in the bathroom that night, recalling the sheer animalistic fear of it all— the last thing he had expected was for Wonwoo to run his hands through his hair and soothe him. 

More than that, he had been stunned when Wonwoo fetched one of his books and distracted Mingyu by teaching him more words and their meanings.  
Wonwoo shouldn’t care. Why would he bother? 

Still, he did. And Mingyu was painfully reminded of that fact when they bumped into one another at the early morning hotel breakfast. 

Mingyu had been avoiding Wonwoo, unsure of how to address the situation. Wonwoo hadn’t pursued him, confused about what exactly he should say. 

They locked eyes. Numerous things flashed in Wonwoo’s mind, and he looked as though he wanted to say something. Mingyu found himself longing to know what it was. 

Wonwoo smiled softly. “You look awful,” 

Mingyu was suddenly unsure of what to do with his limbs. They were useless, long, and in his way. “I didn’t sleep well,” he murmured. 

Wonwoo studied him tiredly. “Nightmares again?” He ran fingers through his hair in an attempt to wake himself. 

Mingyu nodded. “Yeah,” He grumbled. Mingyu was aware of Wonwoo glancing at him, and was somewhere in between hoping he would go blind, and hoping he’d never look away. 

Wonwoo continued their (mostly) one sided conversation. “How do you feel about your target?” His voice was lowered, causing Mingyu to strain to hear him. He unconsciously scooted closer. 

“I’m confident that we’ll be able to take her down easily,” He grinned. 

Wonwoo only shook his head in amusement. “Some of your group mates might be hesitant to kill her. Same goes with mine,” 

Mingyu frowned. “Seungkwan definitely won’t be happy about it,” He risked looking over to Wonwoo, who looked exhausted, eyes darkened. Still, his posture was relaxed and calmed in comparison to Mingyu, who stood rigid on his feet. 

He cleared his throat. “How do you feel about it?” 

Wonwoo quirked a brow at him. 

“The mission,” Mingyu clarified quietly, attempting to push away the feeling of unease in the way Wonwoo didn’t shy away from his stare.

Wonwoo directed his gaze towards the coffee pot sitting on a stained counter. He grabbed a mug from a bag he was carrying (Mingyu assumed that most of its belongings were stolen, including the bag itself) and poured himself some. 

“I grew up in a rough neighborhood,” Wonwoo replied in a slow, drained voice. “It’s nothing I’ve never seen before.” He moved away for Mingyu to have access to the foods that lay before him. Truthfully, he wasn’t very hungry— he had just been wandering around sleepless when he had seen Wonwoo and felt too awkward to just walk away. So he quickly grabbed an apple and stuffed it into his pocket. 

Mingyu noted that Wonwoo wasn’t one to talk about his problems. They were alike, not bothering to let others indulge themselves into what they were thinking. 

But Mingyu would be a liar if he told himself that Wonwoo didn’t have anything on his mind. Maybe if he tried to pry, they could call it even? 

“You don’t seem,” Mingyu gestured around vaguely, having been caught off guard in the way Wonwoo watched him with bemused interest.

“You don’t seem like you really want to,” He finished lamely, scratching the back of his head. 

Wonwoo pulled out a chair and smiled coyly, “What do you mean?”

Mingyu was reluctant to join him, almost as though sitting was admitting defeat. To what exactly, he wasn’t sure. But he refused nonetheless. 

“You say you’ve seen things, but seeing and doing are different— right?” Mingyu struggled to explain himself, the words nearly dying out in his throat. 

Wonwoo seemed to soften for a moment. “They’re different,” He agreed, lips pressed against his coffee gently.

Foreign thoughts and feelings were once again causing Mingyu’s head to reel, causing his chest to feel heavy. It seemed to happen a lot lately. 

“I don’t get why you like me,” Mingyu blurted suddenly. He felt like shrinking under Wonwoo’s gaze, which widened in surprise. 

Wonwoo set his mug down, his stare curious in nature. “Could you elaborate?” 

It almost made Mingyu feel worse that Wonwoo used one of the words he recently explained to him, when Mingyu had questioned it in a book they were reading aloud. 

Mingyu stood with his arms crossed defensively, “Everyone else is scared of me. I don’t even know how to act like a person,”  
He refused to meet Wonwoo’s dark eyes.

“...Do any of us know how to act like people anymore?” Wonwoo questioned gingerly. 

Mingyu huffed. “You know what I mean,” Frustration seeped deeper into his veins, “I don’t think like you guys do. I’m stupid,” He ran a stressed hand through his unkempt hair, “Jeonghan barely remembers anything about his life since he was so young, but he’s still smart. I don’t get it,” 

Wonwoo quieted for a moment, brows furrowed. His voice was a delicate lull when he replied, “First of all, you only had yourself when you were in the facility. You didn’t have any hope or anything to keep going for,” Mingyu could feel Wonwoo’s gaze burning into the side of his face, “Second of all, you and Jeonghan are actually very similar. The only person he trusts is Joshua, no one else— and he doesn’t have a lot of sympathy either,” 

Wonwoo stood, continuing thoughtfully, “Given that you both were so young, I think you’re both doing incredibly well. It’s not a surprise that you don’t feel or think the way some of the others do,” he pressed a hesitant hand on Mingyu’s arm, tracing it gently. “But none of us think the way a ‘normal’ person should. You’ll learn with time,” 

Mingyu didn’t shy away from his touch, but he chewed the inside of his cheek. “You can’t fix me,” He spat. 

Wonwoo didn’t blink. “Who said you were broken?” 

Mingyu didn’t have an answer for that.

 

Minghao, much like everyone else— had jumped at the opportunity to escape the facility. Becoming a government tool was infinitely better than dying alone as a human experiment. Though, he still wasn’t quite used to the frequent near death experiences that came with said choice.  
Still, he didn’t regret it. How could he? 

This was the closest thing to living that Minghao was ever going to experience again. 

Taehyung had quickly dropped their disguises by at around nine thirty. The sky was painted in various shades of honey and marigold, the tints just shy of a more maroon hue. Minghao supposed that their group being dressed as a more typical gangster stereotype suited their roles, seeing as they had the most people in their group. 

Minghao’s own outfit was made of dark, neutral shades of grey and black. His hair fell into his eyes, the kind of unkempt bad boy look that he almost doubted anyone would fall for.

Mingyu had shared a room with him that night. He was a light sleeper, and the constant noises of him moving around nearly drove Minghao to insanity. 

However he was a surprisingly good listener when Minghao complained about his wardrobe. Mingyu certainly looked the part of a rich mobster— an expensive, luxury suit and styled hair to match. 

“If I didn’t know you, I’d say you look believable.” Mingyu grinned. “But then again, I never got outside very much.” 

Minghao shrugged, studying himself in the mirror that hung from the bathroom wall weakly. “It won’t matter. I’ll probably be a shadow for most of the mission anyway,” 

Mingyu swept his hair back one more time for good measure, before facing Minghao sheepishly. “Can you tie a tie?” 

Minghao attempted to hold back his giggles as he helped Mingyu with ease. The giant’s eyes were filled with confusion as he tried to take in every movement Minghao’s hand made. 

“There,” Minghao nodded. “You look professional. Put on one of your scary faces and I’ll be sold,” 

Mingyu slowly tilted his head up, scowling. His stare was piercing, making Minghao feel strangely violated. Then again, Mingyu was rather intimidating on his own, even without the smolder. 

“Perfect,” Minghao straightened— it would be time to leave in just a few minutes. They had been instructed to leave with their roommates and meet up in different spots. 

Minghao was going to have to travel a few blocks by himself— Mingyu’s group would be arriving later than his. It was certainly unnerving, and they had yet to plan who exactly would be finishing off their target. 

Jeonghan was eliminated not because he wouldn’t do it, but because Minghao doubted that there would be conveniently placed plants anywhere in an underground criminal gambling hotspot. 

Seokmin was undeniably fast. So fast that he may be able to maneuver without attracting attention— his electric manipulation was also useful. Then again, he doubted Seokmin had even mentally prepared himself for the reality of it all.  
He didn’t seem like a killer.

Wonwoo was a definite possibility. If there was anyone who would be able to keep a steady hand, it was him. But Minghao didn’t know him well enough to have any sort of conclusive answer— Wonwoo kept his feelings below a steely, indecipherable surface. 

Minghao doubted that he himself could dirty his hands— at least given the utter lack of information available. 

That left Jihoon.  
He was a genius, far beyond Minghao in terms of mathematics and equations. However he was also impossibly pessimistic and occasionally difficult—where he stood as far as empathy goes was hard to to say.

Mingyu tapped his shoulder, signalling that it was time for them to get going. Minghao swallowed his nerves and ignored the way his knees felt a bit disconnected as he followed Mingyu out into the dimly lit hallway.

He could barely focus over the scuffling of their shoes against the marble flooring. How they had managed to get as many rooms as they did was beyond Minghao— (then again, Taehyung was certainly an attribute to be considered). He had speculated that they would be staying in relatively shady places to avoid having a high profile; but hiding in plain sight was just that much more enjoyable, so Minghao couldn’t say he minded very much.

The elevator arrived, and an elderly group of women slowly stepped out with complacent smiles. One woman with dangling jewels adorning her outfit seemed particularly charmed by Mingyu as she stalked by with a small wave. Minghao had to hide his giggling at the man’s confused expression. “What was her deal?” 

Mingyu glanced down at the buttons in uncertainty. Grinning, Minghao coyly made a show of pressing the digits and gauging Mingyu’s sulky pout with amusement. 

The doors were closing when a hand halted its movement. Junhui cheekily poked his head in, hair parted and swept to the side. His outfit was a bit perplexing, at least to Minghao. A white shirt and black pants, complimented by a tan jacket with an orange collar, sleeves, and matching tassels on either side of his chest. 

Seungkwan stepped in behind him, jittery and pale looking. He was wearing a neat grey button up with a dangly red ribbon. 

Junhui flashed Minghao a knowing look at his puzzled expression. “My group—We’re posing as dealers. I guess that means looking like we walked out of an eighties catalog,” Junhui seemed a bit embarrassed as he tousled his hair. “...Does it look bad?” 

Minghao let his eyes skim over Junhui lazily, throat drying. He definitely didn’t look bad. 

When Minghao hesitated to answer, a nervous chuckle escaped from Junhui’s lips. Minghao felt like he was the one being evaluated. 

And despite the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to meet Junhui’s gaze because of the sheer amount of unfair power he held, Minghao jokingly sneered, “I could have styled you better with my eyes closed,” 

That earned him a light smack on his forearm. Minghao felt himself glance at Seungkwan, who looked as though he were gripping the handrail for dear life. He was wobbly on his feet, hands shaking. 

Junhui leaned in, “He’s been in bad shape since last night. Lucky for him, his group has Seungcheol and Mingyu. I don’t think he’ll have to do much as far as fatality goes,” His whisper tickled the back of Minghao’s ear and he suppressed a shiver. “But he’s still bothered by it. I can’t blame him,” 

Minghao nodded, sympathy seeping into his chest. Seungkwan healed people— the thought of causing harm to someone was most likely sickening.  
His thoughts also drifted to Joshua, who shared a similar sense of empathy. Having to feel someone else’s emotions before death was not going to be a task for the faint hearted. “How is Joshua handling things?” 

Junhui flinched. “A-ah, well…” He leaned against the wall, eyes dark. “There was an incident last night. For us,” He gestured to himself, indicating his traveling group. 

Minghao nodded, signaling for him to continue. Junhui inhaled a shaky breath, “An abnormal targeted us on a train last night. They…” He broke off for a moment, swallowing harshly. “They almost killed all the passengers. There were only a few survivors, us included.” Junhui stared loathingly at the metal’s reflective surface. 

The reality of Junhui’s words stabbed through Minghao. He gripped the railing until his knuckles whitened, “Are you okay? Is everyone— is everyone else…?” 

Junhui put his hands in front of him in an attempt to keep Minghao from panicking, “Yeah! Yeah, everyone is okay. Hoseok used a shield,” His eyes were downcast, “Chan was knocked out. He had a bad head injury until Seungkwan healed him,” 

At the mention of his name, Seungkwan stiffened. “Hansol told me everything,” He shuddered, sweat falling in beads down his forehead. “I was nauseous just hearing about it.” He murmured. 

Mingyu furrowed his brows, “Why would an abnormal target you guys?” 

Junhui buried his face in his hands. “We think that they recognized Namjoon and Hoseok from previous missions around this area,” He hurriedly explained as they stepped out onto the grand main floor, voice lowered. “He hates that we work for the government; he called us traitors.” Junhui shifted his eyes around warily, afraid of being overheard. 

Seungkwan coughed, “We shouldn’t be talking about that now,” 

Minghao swallowed the questions and pushed away the worry that urged him to hold Junhui close and ask him if he was alright, because frankly he already knew the answer. Seeing people have their lives stolen away from a soul filled with hate and apathy must have been absolutely gut wrenching. 

Mingyu’s curiosity was relentless. “Did you guys kill him?” 

Minghao nudged him with his elbow. “Not here. We need to focus on finding our destinations,” He risked a glance over in Junhui’s direction, who seemed to have recovered all too swiftly. 

Minghao didn’t believe Mingyu to be a bad person— it wasn’t as though he had experienced anything other than brutality, but his lack of empathy was sometimes incredibly disheartening. For their particular line of work it might benefit him, but Minghao couldn’t help the hope that he would mature a bit, and soon. It was hard to be truly united when Mingyu loses himself to violent urges and brutish tendencies. 

Seungkwan was a mess, head down and obviously shaken. Minghao neared, “Don’t focus on it for now. Focus on your role, not someone else’s. You’ll be helping your friends,” He didn’t want to reference their task directly, Minghao couldn’t help but feel that it wouldn’t benefit Seungkwan any. The latter simply nodded, expression bleak. 

Seungkwan reluctantly trudged behind Mingyu as they entered a small cafe, hastily weaving through bystanders to reach it. 

Junhui wrung his hands, their apparel attracting small bits of unwanted attention. Minghao wanted to offer reassurance, but found that he didn’t have any true words to offer him—his unease was clawing at his insides. 

“I can feel you staring,” Junhui peered at him. “Is there something you want to say?” 

Minghao broke their gaze, alarmed. He would definitely have to get better at reading people without them noticing. “No, not— not particularly.” He blinked in surprise at his mild slip, hoping that Junhui wouldn’t mention it. 

To his relief, Junhui continued his brisk pace as they hurried through a throng of confused tourists. “You don’t have to say anything, you know.” Minghao blinked, the context lost because of his own flustered state. 

“About the accident,” Junhui elaborated quietly. “I don’t expect you to say anything about it, but I feel like you think that you have to,” 

Minghao’s stare never left the sidewalks cracks and gumwads as they continued, pace slowed. “I’m sorry it happened,” He offered slowly, inwardly chastising his sudden lack of vocabulary. 

Junhui smiled at him, but it was dim compared to how he looked shining under the sun’s light the night they had first spent time together.

It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Thank you,” He nodded a bit. 

“Hey, you!” Chan waved at them from across the street, volume barely above that of honking cars and the unending pedestrian chatter. “We’re over here!” 

Minghao felt relief seep out of him and onto his face, smiling at Chan’s bright demeanor. Junhui waved at Minghao apologetically, before navigating towards his meeting spot. 

Minghao eventually reached the outside of the busy, flashing casino. It had a strangely modern look, bright lights and noise inescapable. 

It seemed as though he were the last to arrive, judging by the pensive crease in between Jihoon’s eyes that only increased at his appearance. “You’re here,” 

Minghao responded in dazed confusion, “Yeah…?” 

Jihoon shook his head, his slicked hair unmoving. “Sorry. It just means that we have to start now,” 

Jeonghan grinned, but it was devoid of any humor. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” 

Wonwoo arched a brow. “Is it not?” 

Jeonghan shrugged, expression darkened and cloudy. “I guess we’ll find out,” he drawled. 

Seokmin glared up at the looming building in an ominous kind of indecipherability. 

They entered with a facade of self importance, the leather and glamour hiding the dread that was choking them languidly. 

 

Jeonghan strided through the door with falsely placed assurance in his steps. He was unable to use his gift to defend himself, and so sticking close with the others was a must. 

The colors inside were various assortments of dazzling golds and intimate shades of maroon, the decor grand and completely unnecessary. Most of the casinos inhabitants consisted of middle aged men with balding, sweaty heads and greying beards. 

Jihoon scoffed. “You think these fools know what goes on downstairs?” 

Seokmin hushed him, “Keep your voice low,” He was better at keeping himself together than Jeonghan had presumed, but his eyes kept shifting around him. That would surely give them away. 

Wonwoo tapped Jeonghan’s shoulder, a smirk spreading rapidly across his face. One of the scantily clad bartenders was eyeing him, her gaze piercing. 

Minghao shuffled on his feet, “Looks like we found our way in,” He cast a sideways glance towards Jeonghan, who had to remind himself not to grimace in disgust. 

“Our inside source told Namjoon what we should wear, right? To pose as gangsters?” Seokmin questioned lowly. 

Jihoon nodded. “Well, yeah. That’s why she’s giving Jeonghan bedroom eyes—she already knows what we’re here for, the illegal stuff.” He looked up at Jeonghan expectantly. 

Wonwoo flashed him a grin, but there was the slightest trace of dread hidden behind his bright smile. “You’re our ticket in,” 

Jeonghan glared at him reproachfully, before taking a reluctant seat at the dimly lit bar. 

The bartender sauntered over, eyes heavy lidded. “What can I do for you?” She drawled. 

Jeonghan winked coyly, “I need a favor,” He swept his hair back, voice teasingly breathy. 

She quirked a brow. “You’re here for the back, right? We’re supposed to have interesting company tonight,” She traced the length of Jeonghan’s arm with her nails, far too close for his comfort. “But I’m sure my company could be all the more interesting,” Jeonghan could feel her breath glide across his face. 

He gritted his teeth. “It would be, wouldn’t it?” Jeonghan leaned back in mock disappointment, “Unfortunately, I have some urgent business to attend to. Would you be a doll and let me and my friends in the underground? We’re being expected, after all,” 

The girl shrugged, “Maybe— but it might take a little more than that,” She was wearing Jeonghan’s patience thinner than it was to begin with. 

He truly detested the idea of entertaining her any longer, but alas, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Jeonghan stood, pulling the bartender close and settling his hands on her hips. His lips brushed her neck, “I’ll see if I have any spare time by the end of the night,” He whispered,  
movements tantalizing slow. For a moment, the bartender tensed before going limp almost just as suddenly— the change was so brisk that Jeonghan wondered if he had been the one to still. 

She giggled and pulled away. “Follow me— your friends can come, too.” Jeonghan turned to face them, their reactions as embarrassed as they were amused. Wonwoo smirked while Jihoon frowned in blatant disgust. Minghao and Seokmin had avoided the scene, instead observing their surroundings intently. 

Jeonghan felt a hot flash of guilt run through his system suddenly, mixed with his own repulsion towards the girl he just had to seduce. 

He spared one last glance behind him, and found that some alarmingly familiar faces had just arrived, cases packed with hallucinative substances in hand. 

Jeonghan bit back his apologies at seeing the frown on Jisoo’s face. He was already despairing over the mission already, and the train accident had only worsened his mental state. He was barely sleeping, barely eating. Jeonghan wasn’t used to him being in a constant state of unrest. 

And seeing Jeonghan openly having suggestive actions with a bartender in a skimpy uniform as soon as he walked in was surely not going to help him whatsoever. 

Wonwoo steered him around, hands placed firmly on his shoulders. He refrained from making any comments regarding the situation, and simply offered a sympathetic pat. 

The bartender led them to a doorway, to which she pulled out a set of jangly keys. The door unlocked, steep marbled steps leading downwards. Roars of laughter and swears met their ears immediately, the outrage of drunken men and those who were losing whatever daring wager they had proposed. 

She wrapped her arms around Jeonghan’s waist suggestively, “Have fun,” She sighed, waving a flirty goodbye. 

They descended the stairs in a grim quiet. As much as the others most likely would have relished in making all too playful jabs at Jeonghan, their true mission was upon them.  
Jeonghan couldn’t stop his heart from hammering insistently in his chest. 

The room was broad, checkered flooring and lush, velvet carpets welcomed the soles of their feet. There were a variety of tables set up for gambling, drunken cheers drowned out the grumbles of those who lost. A bar was seated off to the side, leather seats accompanied by the same skimpy outfitted women. In fact, Jeonghan thought he caught a glimpse of the same bartender from before slide something across the glossy surface to another girl, who only smiled complacently. 

Jeonghan inhaled sharply when Wonwoo harshly elbowed him in the side. Frowning, he opened his mouth to complain— when he realized what exactly had him so stirred. 

Their target was sitting at a table, playing cards in hand. She grinned at her opponents openly, though it didn’t reach the glowering stare in her eyes. 

Jihoon flitted between them both, uncertain. “There’s only two people who can get to that table and get out alive,” 

He turned, arms crossed lazily. “And that’s you both,” 

Wonwoo’s brows furrowed, “What makes you say that?” 

Minghao placed a comforting hand on on his shoulder, “You’re scary— you have a cold demeanor,” 

He then pointed at Jeonghan, who was only slightly conveying his stress. “And you’re good at pretending, as we saw upstairs. Simple,” 

Seokmin swallowed, unsteady on his feet. “Everyone else is here—I think they’re looking for their targets. We should get moving,”

Jeonghan regarded Wonwoo bemusedly, the corners of his lips upturned. “And how exactly do you gamble?” 

Wonwoo shrugged, “You assume that I know?” 

Minghao blinked at him, eyes searching. “...Weren’t you a formal criminal?” 

Wonwoo smiled and winked in reply. “If that’s what you want to call it. But to answer your question, Jeonghan— just follow my lead,” 

Jihoon smacked him, eyes roaming around the room, inspecting and curious. “We don’t have time for this—get over there. We’re going to help the others,” 

The stride over to the corner was almost unbearable. Jeonghan made note of Wonwoo’s causal, disinterested demeanor. The way his lip was curled almost into a sneer. “Next round,” He murmured. 

Lisa was leaning on her palm, eyes studying them closely. “Alright— take a seat,” There was no bite to her words, no laces of suspicion. Jeonghan took that as a positive sign. 

Some of the mobsters that had joined her in the previous round slowly dissipated, their teeth glinting. 

That was most definitely strange. 

Lisa dealt their cards with experience, voice confident. “Who do you work for?” 

Jeonghan tensed, a chill settling over his uncaring facade. Next to him, Wonwoo had stilled, gaze sharpened. 

He could feel the blood rushing through his ears. She surely couldn’t have figured them out that quickly? 

“Shouldn’t you already know?” Wonwoo replied carefully, tone unusually husky— his throat must have dried, much like Jeonghan’s. 

Ah— she was referring to their imaginary boss within the mafia. Their position hadn’t yet been compromised. 

“I see people here all the time— I can’t remember every face,” Lisa countered, not unkindly. “Place your bets on the table,” 

They all had been supplied a fair sum of money at the beginning of the night, theirs to use to make their lie all the more believable. However, as Jeonghan fished through his pockets— he found them empty.

Wonwoo had already put his sum on the table, as had Lisa. She bore a grin, “Don’t tell me you’ve blown your money?” Her nails tapped against the table rhythmically, “The mafia is usually never so sparing, but don’t tell me you’ve run out?” 

Jeonghan felt a surge of alarm shoot through his system. 

Upstairs, the bartender. Leaning, getting close. Making Jeonghan get closer. 

His head whipped around towards the bar, to see the girl conversing amicably. The two were heading towards the stairs, before she locked eyes with Jeonghan. 

Her hair was different from the photo. 

Rosè— and Jennie Kim. 

She had stolen his money. 

His eyes narrowed as she grinned— was it in victory? Jeonghan wasn’t so sure. The men that had crowded their table stood, hovering like vultures. It was then that Jeonghan realized that multiple groups of men stood near his friends, alert. Peering at them with hungry expressions. 

They watched with anticipation. Just what exactly were they anticipating?

Jeonghan could feel his heart pounding. 

They had walked right into a set up. 

Wonwoo placed a hand on his arm, nails digging into the leather jacket draped around him. “You haven’t run out, don’t be so stingy.” He was vying for time— but Jeonghan knew now that they were out of that before they had even started. 

“I don’t think we have time for a game— excuse us,” Jeonghan silently pleaded for Wonwoo to play along. He was an observant guy, surely he would catch on. 

Lisa sneered, learning forward on her palms. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” 

Wonwoo stood slowly, hand firm on Jeonghan’s shoulder. 

It happened in a hurried glint of steel and a flash of gunfire that rained in their direction.  
Wonwoo sent the table flying, tackling Jeonghan behind a pillar. 

Confused screams and startled yells immediately filled the room. Jeonghan risked a peer around the marble column, “We’ve been tricked!” 

His voice wasn’t heard over the chaos that had erupted. Wonwoo’s presence was still felt, despite the fact that he was only but a ghost as far as the naked eye could see. 

Lisa never ceased her fire, relentlessly sending hardened metal their way. Wonwoo could only make so many table stools and vases block her target. 

The bullets were halted suddenly, hanging from mid air. Jihoon lowered himself next to Jeonghan, scowling. “You looked like you could use some help,” 

The bullets retracted themselves, the impact sending Lisa reeling backwards into the far side of the bar. She ducked behind it, gun cocked. 

Wonwoo pushed Jeonghan slightly, “You need to get out of here— there’s nothing you can do. Where’s Chan?” 

A bulky man grabbed Jeonghan from behind, reaching for his throat. 

Jeonghan kicked backwards, hitting his knee. He turned and punched the man, causing him to stumble. 

Seokmin sprinted by him, sparks only barely visible as the man was knocked to the floor, electrocuted. 

He turned to Jeonghan, tense. “Chan’s upstairs with Cheol, and a few others. They’re trying to get the girls that escaped— everyone else is occupied down here,” 

Wonwoo revealed himself, panting. “Take Jeonghan. You’re too quick to be hit by bullets,” 

Jeonghan was about to object, when Seokmin slung him over his shoulder. “I’ll be coming back,” He murmured. 

 

Seokmin dropped Jeonghan on the ground haphazardly. He stood and brushed himself off, gaze wandering to the deserted upstairs. “Where did they go?” 

Seokmin shrugged, “I thought I heard Hansol say that they were splitting up, upstairs and downstairs. There’s probably a bomb somewhere, according to Joshua.” Seokmin scratched his head, “If you can help with that, check the lower floors—the place cleared after guns were fired,” 

Jeonghan nodded, voice all too quiet in the abandoned room. “Be careful,” He cautioned with a grave sense of finality. 

Seokmin could only muster what he hoped was a grin, and not a grimace. 

Downstairs was a despairing mixture of corpses and the shrieking of rapid gunfire. Mingyu was busy bending guns from afar, eyes dark and glossy. He heaved men left and right, bones crunching, blood splattering. 

Minghao lurked in the darkness, leaving his opponents vulnerable and open to attack. He stole their weapons with ease, firing into the noise. 

Soonyoung was rather agile, his hands scorching through flesh whenever they could, the sheer heat of it making it nearly impossible to get within proximity.

Jihoon reversed the bullet’s path, his small stature easily unseen— but also easily overwhelmed in terms of strength. 

He hadn’t been watching his back. A burly mafia man swung him to the side, Jihoon’s head hitting the wall roughly. 

He hissed out a mangled breath of curses as as a bullet was plunged into his shoulder.  
Jihoon could only release of strangled noise of pain as he collapsed. 

Seokmin panicked. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, thoughts numb, chest tightened. 

Seokmin hurriedly ushered Jihoon up the stairwell, covered by Minghao, who sent bullets spraying after anyone who attempted to follow. 

Maroon seeped through Jihoon’s jacket, staining Seokmin’s hands. 

Jihoon whimpered, “Shit—fuck!” His head sagged, body practically limp. “I don’t want to fucking die—I just got my shitty life back—fuckin’ hell!” 

Seokmin reached out to calm him, trembling. 

His voice had died in his throat, eyes burning. “Jihoon,” 

Jihoon’s blood dripped down, face battered. Cuts from shallow knife wounds littered his skin. 

The sound of heavy footsteps caused Seokmin to nearly topple over.

Hansol met his widened, desperate stare. He yelled down a corridor, voice hoarse. “Seungkwan! Seungkwan—”

Jeonghan shoved by him, arm tightly gripped by a dazed Joshua. Upon the sight before him, he froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I hope you enjoy cliffhangers~ ;)
> 
> Don’t forget to support Seventeen’s comeback, along with Junhui & Minghao! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, feedback is highly welcomed! (´∀｀)♡
> 
> Edit: a couple days after posting this chapter something came up in my  
> personal life. I am definitely not discontinuing the story, but I may be on hiatus for a little while. Things are kind of rough right now, and I wouldn’t want to write anything half heartedly and have the results be disappointing. Thank you all so much for reading >3 lots of love, see you soon :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not very long, not very well written. But I'm back :)

Jisoo felt his grip tighten on Jeonghan’s arm, heart hammering painfully against his chest. The sheer panic of the atmosphere combined with his own blatant fear was overriding whatever common sense he was naturally graced with. Yoongi had taught him to disassociate, to breathe deeply and just let his mind become an empty shell.

But it was terribly hard to do that with Jihoon laying against the wall, a bullet lodged in his shoulder. 

Jisoo and Hansol had discovered the bomb behind a water pump, nearly ready to detonate. Seungkwan and Jeonghan searched for Seungcheol and Chan, who were presumably chasing after the escaping targets— with no such luck. The only remaining option was the roof. 

Seungkwan kneeled next to Jihoon, clammy and pale, matching his patient. “I don’t—I don’t have the materials—” Seungkwan stuttered under his breath, “There isn’t much I can do, but it’s not fatal,” 

Jihoon was positivity miserable to look at, gritted teeth, hair plastered against his forehead—growls of pain escaping parted lips. 

Jeonghan wrapped a comforting arm around Jisoo’s waist, shaky. “Some of us should stay here with Jihoon. Everyone else needs to help Seungcheol and Chan,” 

Seokmin nodded, uneasy on his feet. “I can help. Where are they, exactly?” 

Hansol pointed upwards, eyes still trained on the blood seeping through Jihoon’s shirt. His leather jacket lay discarded next to him, bloodied and tattered. “Rooftop,” He murmured. 

Jisoo placed a hand against his chest, swaying slightly on his feet. Jeonghan eased him into a crouch, hands teasing Jisoo’s hair gently. There wasn’t any exchange in words, only a feeling of helplessness seeping into his system. 

Why was he so useless? Could he not even predict something so important? 

Jisoo swallowed. 

There was no point in him being here—he couldn’t even contribute. 

Footsteps hammered up the stairwell as the door was slammed open. Smoke filled the air almost immediately after. 

“Soonyoung—made a fire wall—the building is on fire,” Minghao hacked in between breaths, eyes watery. 

Mingyu was carrying Wonwoo on his back, the latter hissing in pain. “The idiot nearly burned my leg off,” 

Soonyoung finally emerged, attempting to hide his evident panic and failing horribly. “It’s fine, everything is fine. We just have to let Hansol get rid of it—” 

A sudden blast knocked everyone off balance as they ducked for what cover they could find. Dust and debris littered the room, blazing flames only continuing to climb the stairwell. 

“That was another bomb— who knows how many there are,” Hansol leaned against the wall, clutching a scrape on his arm. “I just froze one down the hall; and now the building is on fire,” 

“It’s too risky for you to stay down here and fight the fire by yourself. I’m sure people outside have alerted the authorities by now, which means we have to kill our targets and leave. Now.” Wonwoo’s tone wasn’t nearly as threatening as he most likely intended it to be, mainly because of the pain searing through his leg. 

Seungkwan took a look around the room, wary. “Where’s Junhui?” 

Mingyu blinked, shaking dust out of his hair. “He’s not with you?” 

Minghao stood, eyes wide. “He’s probably upstairs. We need to have faith in him,” 

“More importantly, we’re about to get burned alive or blown to bits any second now. We need to head upstairs,” Jeonghan curtly jerked his head upwards, lifting Jisoo to his feet briskly. 

Seokmin ran a stressed hand through his hair, “What about the injured?” 

Wonwoo scoffed. “I’ll be fine, I’m not helpless.” His eyes scanned over Jihoon, drained. “We can’t have him with us, though.” 

A loud crash sounded from the rooftop, causing nearly Jisoo to jump out of his skin. Jeonghan raised his voice, “We don’t have time for this! Seungkwan, carry Jihoon outside. Jisoo and I are coming with you,” 

Mingyu raised a brow, “Jisoo? What?” 

“Mind your own damn business for God’s sake, if we make it out of here alive I’ll kill you myself.” Jeonghan snapped, harshly turning away. Despite his anger, he didn’t tug Jisoo along any as they exited the flaming building. 

The footsteps of their friends echoed in Jisoo’s mind, his head pounding painfully. It was pouring outside—Jisoo breathed a sigh of relief that they wouldn’t all burn to death. Flashes of lightning illuminated the rooftop, where noises of struggle and rage made the knot in Jisoo’s stomach grow tighter. 

Seungkwan laid Jihoon against the side of the building. They were masked by bushes and darkness, the rain making it difficult to properly survey their surroundings anyway. 

Seungkwan was still tending to Jihoon to the best of his current limited ability, stressed and uncharacteristically quiet. Jisoo closed his eyes and leaned into Jeonghan’s side, releasing a trembling breath.

Jeonghan brushed his now soaked hair back, tender. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” He attempted to stand, but Jisoo caught his arm. “What?” Confusion was an emotion that Jisoo was familiar with— but not with Jeonghan, never with Jeonghan. His emotions affected those around him, and likewise. The stronger a bond, the less of a distinction it was between two separate thought processes and ways of processing emotion— it all became blurred. 

But in his state, Jisoo couldn’t feel Jeonghan very well. 

And that worried him. 

Jeonghan knelt back down, a tired smile on his face. “We don’t know what those girls are capable of. My guess is that they may be like us,” 

Jisoo blinked, startled. “You think they have powers?” 

Jeonghan shushed him, casting a few glances in Seungkwan’s direction. “You’ll frighten him,” He whispered. 

Jisoo nodded, hands clinging to Jeonghan’s frame. “So why are you leaving? There won’t be any plants up there-- you can’t defend yourself,” 

Jeonghan grinned. “Poison immunity, remember?” He traced Jisoo’s cheek bone lightly, but he could still feel Jeonghan shaking. 

“If I see that I’m not needed, I’ll come right back. I promise,” Jeonghan spoke into Jisoo’s neck, sending chills along his spine. 

Jisoo closed his eyes, hesitant. Jeonghan untangled their limbs, and Jisoo wondered if he imagined a faint kiss on his jawline. 

“Don’t worry for me, Jisoo. I still have to apologize for what you saw earlier,” Jeonghan giggled lightly, a poor attempt at making Jisoo occupied with thoughts that weren’t completely paranoid. 

He shook his head, “I don’t care about that. I care about you,” Jisoo bit his lip, finding comfort in the sting. “A bomb could go off, they could hurt you before you get back, what if they kill you, oh god—” 

Jeonghan lifted Jisoo’s hand to his lips, feather light kisses brushing his knuckles. “Hush now. I don’t break promises,” 

Jeonghan pulled away firmly, leaving Jisoo to crawl into himself. Seungkwan has his back facing away from them, worriedly talking to himself as he applied pressure to Jihoon’s wound. 

It was a few measly minutes after Jeonghan left that Jisoo’s resolve crumpled. 

The sounds of struggle, of fighting—it all had stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past few months have honestly been such an emotional roller coaster, and I'm so sorry for going on hiatus. This update isn't anything that you probably hoped it would be, and I'm sorry if anyone's disappointed. I needed a break, and I took time to focus on my personal life and other writing projects. 
> 
> This story is going to be on an indefinite hiatus because I'm struggling to get back in the flow of this story. That being said, I've been working on other projects including a long fantasy au (to be released soon) and the first few chapters of a mafia au. I'm going to continue writing, and I'm sorry that I'm pausing this. I hope to come back to it :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. You don't know how much it means to me ❤

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) This work was heavily inspired by a video on youtube called [svt! mutants au ] on vjsenya's channel. Criticism and comments are highly appreciated ^^ thank you for reading.


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